Redemption
by Gwenn
Summary: Another new DADA professor, this one with a familiar story and a desperate need.
1. The Arrival

Chapter One: The Arrival  
  
Adelaide Mayhem looked up at the castle in the distance, its flags waving brightly in the late summer sunshine. Her traveling companion gripped her arm tightly as they passed through the gates of Hogwarts and set off on the long, climbing pathway up to the main entrance. Her arm was hooked in his, and as they walked she glanced up at his platinum hair tied neatly in a bow with a black leather ribbon at the back of his neck. Not a strand was out of place. The man stood erect, the silver head of his walking stick polished to a blinding shine.  
  
If anyone had been looking, she would have seemed his match in composure and self-assurance. She shared his regal air, and they walked among the Hogwarts grounds as if they owned the place. What was not outwardly evident was that her gut was like a cave full of bats that took wing every time she thought about why she was really there, and the irreversible stream of events she was about to set in motion.  
  
The August air was warm and Addy needed to stop to remove her witch's woolen over-robes. Lucius Malfoy stared at her lasciviously as her black linen day-robes fluttered in the breeze. He'd known this child since the day she'd been born, and had to admit that she had indeed grown into a beautiful woman. What's more, he knew she was smart too.quite possibly brilliant. "Perfect material for a Queen," he thought.  
  
Soon they could see the main doors and the tall figure that stood in the entranceway, regarding them gravely. So, this was the famous Albus Dumbledore. After all she'd heard of his power and strength, she had expected to find a mighty warrior, running Hogwarts like King Arthur of the Muggle legends. Instead, the man before her, while quite tall, looked old and frail, his white hair and beard hanging below his waist, his eyes sparkling absent-mindedly behind half-moon glasses.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy, this is indeed a surprise. What brings you and your companion to Hogwarts? Your son hasn't even arrived for the new term yet." Dumbledore glanced at Addy and smiled politely, but she noticed that his gaze returned to Lucius, quickly and warily.  
  
"Albus, I bring good news," Lucius announced. Dumbledore couldn't recall a time when a visit from Lucius Malfoy had come with good news, yet he listened patiently as they followed him through the entrance hall and up to his office. Lucius continued, "The Board of Directors and myself have once again come to your rescue. The new term is to start in 3 days, yet we understand that you have not found a new teacher for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Well, now you have. Meet Miss Adelaide Mayhem."  
  
Adelaide flashed Dumbledore a dazzling smile, and gave Lucius's arm a little squeeze. At the same time, the polite smile which had been fixed on Dumbledore's face vanished. "Miss Mayhem," he said with a curt nod to her, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Then, turning back to her 'companion', he added, "However, Lucius, it is my understanding that I am still in charge of the hiring decisions here at Hogwarts. The other professors and I have been discussing several strong possibilities, but as you know, there are not many who are both qualified to teach this class . . . and," he added with a penetrating glare at Malfoy, "trustworthy as well."  
  
Lucius snorted and bared his teeth, saying, "True, you haven't had much luck with your previous choices for this position. We have all seen and suffered the consequences of your hiring decisions. What did you have in mind next, a vampire? Or perhaps a giant . . .or should I say, another giant?"  
  
Dumbledore continued, patiently, "There is no need to rush into any decision now, Lucius. The entire staff has offered to pitch in until a permanent solution can be found, and - -"  
  
Malfoy cut him off with, "It seems lately that just keeping our children protected from harm is a bigger job than you can fully handle, Albus, much less finding qualified instructors for them. The board and I are only trying to help. We'd prefer you and the staff focus on keeping these students safe, and I'm sure that their parents would heartily agree. I, for one, know that the Diggory's are particularly concerned for the welfare of their youngest son, who is in his second year here, is he not?"  
  
Addy saw Dumbledore's eyes flash momentarily as she looked from one formidable wizard to the other. They all knew that Lucius' comment was meant to be a reminder of the painful events of the past few years, particularly the death of Cedric Diggory. What Dumbledore was trying to gage was exactly how much of it was meant to be some sort of threat.  
  
The headmaster opened his mouth to protest again, but Lucius continued breezily before Dumbledore could speak, "Anyway, it's a fait accompli. I have signatures here on Miss Mayhem's contract from each of the Board Members. Her curriculum vitae is enclosed for your review, of course, and I'm sure that when you read it you will agree that she is most qualified. Her references, which are impeccable, are also included," he said, handing Dumbledore a green leather satchel containing Adelaide's papers. "Adelaide comes from a very old, very reputable, pureblooded wizarding family. Her father and I have been friends for many years, and I have watched this woman grow and blossom. She has a sharp mind, Albus," he said with an odd glow in his eyes, "and she is quite . . . accomplished. I can personally vouch for her credentials and her skills."  
  
Dumbledore glanced briefly down at the satchel full of papers, then looked intently at Adelaide for the first time since she had arrived. He stared at her in silence for nearly a minute, as though she was covered in the writing of a language he needed to decipher. She tried to make herself as unreadable as possible, at least while Malfoy was still here. She noticed Lucius scowling impatiently at Dumbledore, while the elder wizard studied her.  
  
Finally, Dumbledore turned back to Lucius with resignation in his eyes. Yet when he spoke, his voice was bright and almost merry. "Well then. I suppose if it's settled, there's nothing left to do but show Miss Mayhem.I mean, Professor Mayhem.her quarters. I assume you've taken the liberty of bringing her belongings with you on this outing. No doubt our house elves have already made up her chambers."  
  
Lucius' face broke into a stone cold grin. "Indeed.I'm sure the little creatures have already drawn her a bath. You do have such efficient house elves, Albus. You must tell me your secret some time."  
  
Albus started toward the door of his office, opening it for Lucius. "Seeing as how there are fewer than three days to prepare for the new term, I suggest we get straight to work. Therefore, I must ask you to excuse us, Lucius, as I have a staff meeting beginning in just an hour. It will be the perfect time to introduce Miss Mayhem to her new colleagues. Do say hello to Narcissa for me, and tell Draco we are looking forward to seeing him shortly."  
  
"That's fine Albus. I will simply pay a short visit to my friend in your dungeons, and be on my way." Lucius gave Adelaide an overly tight hug and kissed her on the cheek with his hands gripping her arms. As he pulled her close to him, he whispered into her ear, "You're in, my dear. I've done my part. Now let's see what you're made of."  
  
Adelaide stepped back from him and grinned, her eyes flashing. She said loudly and clearly, "Thank you for your help, Lucius. I promise, I won't let you - and the Board of Directors - down. Give my regards to your lovely wife, will you?"  
  
As he reached the door, Malfoy turned to Dumbledore, adding "And Albus, please do not hesitate to call on me if I can be of service in any other way. These are . . . dangerous times, after all." He bared his teeth in one last predatory grin and started down the spiral staircase that led away from Dumbledore's office, his black robes swirling around him, his walking stick clicking on each step as the sound of him faded into the distance.  
  
Finally, Addy and Dumbledore were alone in his office. The headmaster closed the door softly and walked around behind his desk, gesturing for Adelaide to sit in the leather armchair across from him. He looked at her solemnly. "Please make yourself at home, Miss Mayhem. You must be quite tired from your trip. However, there is no time for resting now. I should like to hear more about you and your acquaintance with the Malfoys, and to know precisely how you are qualified to instruct the students of Hogwarts in the defense against the dark arts."  
  
Adelaide did not sit down. If fact, it appeared as though she wasn't paying any attention to what Dumbledore was saying to her. She was rooting around in the black leather briefcase she had carried in with her, digging deep into a recessed pocket with a near-frantic sense of purpose. As a precautionary step, Dumbledore put one hand inside the pocket of his robe and lightly touched his wand. He looked at her questioningly when she at last produced a piece of parchment that had been folded in an intricate pattern and sealed. She handed it wordlessly to him and gestured for him to open it, her eyes burning with urgency.  
  
This was indeed curious, Dumbledore thought, and he raised an eyebrow questioningly at her. She looked imploringly from his face to the note and back again. Dumbledore proceeded to break through no fewer than 12 charms protecting the secrecy of the note, each one of which would have done serious damage to anyone beside himself who had tried to open it. Chuckling to himself, he thought of how much she reminded him of someone else he knew. Finally, he broke through the seal to read the following words, written in a fluid yet shaky hand:  
  
"I need to speak with you in complete and utter secrecy."  
  
This was unexpected, thought the old wizard. But in a world that had been turned upside down by evil, where allies turned to fiends and enemies became saviors seemingly overnight, he knew that friends were often found in the strangest of guises. He responded to Adelaide out loud, saying, "My dear, all of Hogwarts is protected by the most powerful magic known to me and my staff, and together we constitute quite a body of knowledge. If there is a safe place for you anywhere, it is here in my office. Please tell me what it is you would like to discuss with me." At the same time, he tightened his grip on his wand, for Lucius had been right about one thing-these were indeed dangerous times.  
  
Adelaide's eyes darted wildly about the room, grazing over each of the dozing figures of former headmasters in their portrait frames. She hesitated, too fearful to begin, unsure whether her voice would obey commandments from her brain. With a deep breath, she screwed up her courage and said in a croaking whisper, "Headmaster Dumbledore. I have been a Death Eater all my life. But I've come to Hogwarts to work for you.to aid you in your fight against Voldemort, and defeat him for good. I guess you could say I want to defect. I've come here for . . . for . . . redemption." 


	2. Chapter 2: Her Story

Chapter Two: Her Story  
  
Dumbledore was not a wizard who could be easily surprised, yet he had to admit he was taken aback by her pronouncement, particularly coupled with the burning desperation in her eyes. The poor girl could barely speak or keep herself from shaking, but Dumbledore's compassion was tempered by a healthy wariness.  
  
"Do continue, Miss Mayhem. Tell me what brings you here, with this most intriguing request," was all he said.  
  
"It's true, I do come from an old and pure-blooded wizarding family. What Lucius neglected to mention is that we could only be considered "respectable" among the darkest of circles. From the moment I could listen, I was taught to hate. From the moment I could speak, I was trained in the dark arts."  
  
"Shortly after he left Hogwarts, Tom Riddle met and befriended my parents, who were a young couple at the time, ambitious to climb up the ladder of wizarding elites. The three of them became the best of friends, as they plotted and murdered their way into positions of leadership. My father, in particular, was a crucial part of Lor-- I mean, Voldemort's rise to power, until the whole wizarding world nearly succumbed to his reign of terror. During that time I lived with my family at Voldemort's compound and . . . and . . . I was . . . "  
  
Addy's voice failed her, her mind flooding with gruesome memories. Her skin was cold and clammy and it had become increasingly difficult to draw a proper breath. For the thousandth time she prayed to the Gods to let her fall into a deep swoon from which there was no recovery - - just a final relief from the guilt that weighed so heavily it threatened to crush her.  
  
But she didn't faint. Instead, she felt a resurgence of will, as Dumbledore's voice cut through the screaming ghosts echoing through her head and snapped her back to the present moment: "You were a Death Eater, Miss Mayhem."  
  
"Yes," she replied, forcing herself to look him in the eye. With a short, mirthless laugh, she continued, "I was one of the best. They said I was destined for 'greatness.'" This last word was uttered with so much bitterness, it burned Albus' ears to hear it.  
  
"We lived like royalty, basking in the power and prestige of Voldemort's innermost circle. And then, Voldemort miscalculated. He forgot how powerful a mother's love could be, or perhaps he never knew. He underestimated it and was nearly defeated by a baby . . . a tiny baby. We called it the Falling Day, and my family and I scurried away like all the other rats, to the far corners of the earth."  
  
"We fled first to Romania, but were nearly caught by Aurors. We were on the run for several months, until we finally escaped to India, where we lived as Muggles in the countryside for the next 10 years. I think my father was, by that time, quite insane, yet if he hadn't been, living with poverty stricken Muggles would have surely pushed him over the edge."  
  
As her story unfolded, Adelaide slipped into a trance-like state, staring into the space before her as she spoke. She appeared to be watching her life go by in her own private screening, each memory reflected in her expression. As she spoke of her father's insanity, a faint suggestion of a rueful smile crept over her lips, before fading.  
  
"Father became obsessed with figuring out what had happened in the aftermath of Falling Day, chasing after any news he could find of Voldemort and the other surviving Death Eaters. He tried desperately to piece together the shards of stories he was able to uncover, and to figure out who was on top . . . who was leading the resurrection of evil, and how. Your Aurors were good. They made it nearly impossible to get or send information. Nearly."  
  
"But my mother and I were busy adapting to Muggle life. Too afraid to practice magic, lest we be discovered by Aurors, we learned to grow food on our tiny plot of land, raise animals, cook and make our own clothes. There was an old woman in our village who was a Healer, and she agreed to give me lessons in exchange for food. I learned all about medicinal plants and practices from her - - 'Muggle Magic,' I called it. Over the years I became as good at healing as I had been at the dark arts . . . maybe even better. The difference was that my new practice gave me things I'd never had: joy . . . pride . . . respect for life . . . an understanding of universal connections."  
  
"After a few years, I actually was able to enjoy stretches of hours, sometimes nearly a whole day, where I simply forgot about being a Death Eater. Forgot about fear, torture, death, deception, hunger, ambition and all the things that still drove my father. Slowly, over the years, he put together the news that Voldemort had survived, and although weak, was plotting his return to power, aided by a few key Death Eaters who had remained loyal. He couldn't bear the thought of being replaced. So one day, my mother and I woke up, and he was gone. His note said he could no longer hide like a coward in the wilds of India when his master needed him. He would return for us when the time was right.  
  
"With my father gone and my healing skills growing each day, the next few years were the happiest I've ever known. Then one morning, about two years ago, my mother and I looked up from the garden to see my father walking down the road, a mad and wicked grin on his face and in his eyes. By evening, we had abandoned our hut, our garden, and my teacher, and without a trace left behind, we were back in Voldemort's lair, kissing his hideous hands and feet and telling him how glorious it was that he'd regained his strength. "  
  
"The thing is, I didn't want to be a Death Eater any more. When I was younger, before Falling Day, I had looked on Voldemort as a sort of Uncle, and a King and Master as well. I would do anything to please him and my father, and they fawned over me so, telling me what an excellent dark wizard I was, and how I had the potential to become a great legend among Death Eaters. It had been intoxicating, when I was young."  
  
"But now, I was a Healer, a good one. I didn't want any part of death and destruction. I'd have been happy to have my old hut and my old teacher back. When I looked at my father, all I could see was a madman. When I looked at Voldemort, all I could see was a monster."  
  
I tried to run away, but each time I was captured and tortured, until I was basically a prisoner at Voldemort's compound. I was forced to use both my curative skills and my knowledge of dark magic to heal other Death Eaters who had been harmed in the recent violent outbursts and attacks. Any time I had a case that was beyond repair, I suffered Crucio, but it was worth it, honestly, just to know that one less Death Eater would be going out to wreak havoc another day.  
  
"I was weak, I was a coward. I should have resisted, should have killed every one of my "patients" until Crucio had pushed me over into madness. But my father and Voldemort were too smart for that. My unique combination of skills was too valuable, and I think it's even possible that they had designs on making me Voldemort's Queen once his ascent to absolute power was complete. So they kept me sane and safe and locked away, while my self- loathing grew every day. I even tried to kill myself but it . . . it . . . it didn't work."  
  
At this last statement, Dumbledore saw a very dark shadow cloud her eyes. Her left arm twitched instinctively, looking as though it might grasp at her heart, before sinking back into her lap. The thought of being Voldemort's queen always turned Addy's stomach, and she had to swallow hard before continuing.  
  
"Then one day, I overheard Lucius Malfoy speaking with Voldemort - - something about the activities going on here at Hogwarts. Over the years I had figured out that Harry Potter was here, and Voldemort wanted his revenge, but that you were protecting the boy. Not only that, but in the past year, I've pieced together that there might be some kind of resistance group that seems to have its center here at Hogwarts. I also know there's another Death Eater involved with the school - - it could be Lucius, but perhaps there is another as well . . . it's unclear."  
  
At this, Dumbledore chose to remain silent. There would be plenty of time for introductions and explanations, IF he decided to believe her. He regarded this tiny woman who was bearing her soul from across his desk. Her left hand clutched the arm of the chair with white knuckles. Her green eyes were on fire.  
  
Adelaide continued, her fevered voice rising, "I formulated my plan, and gave the appearance of taking a keener interest in the plotting of Death Eater attacks and field movements, so that I could learn more about Voldemort's strategy. I also became a lot better at eavesdropping. And I learned a lot from the dying words of witches and wizards under my care, who had switched loyalties so many times, they could no longer remember which side they were on. That information I kept to myself, which puts me more in the know about some things than Voldemort himself. That's how I was able to learn about some of his future plans - - information that you and your group can surely use!" She looked up at Dumbledore plaintively.  
  
"I convinced Voldemort to use Lucius to get me into Hogwarts. Here, I told him, I could keep tabs on you and the actions of your resistance fighters, reporting crucial information back to the compound. Slowly but surely he agreed to let me do it. And so you saw that I had to suffer a trip here with Lucius Malfoy, all the while pretending to be utterly charmed by him.  
  
Suddenly, she looked him square in the eye. Here voice was steady, yet barely contained. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I will NOT go back into service for that beast. I will NOT so much as bandage the little toe of another Death Eater. I WILL NOT BE A PARTY TO EVIL ANY LONGER!"  
  
With that, the fire left her, and she slumped in her chair. "You've listened to my whole story, and for that I'm grateful. It is an unexpected relief just to tell it. I have just one more favor I must ask of you." Dumbledore raised a furry eyebrow at her.  
  
"I know what I am, what I've done. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you didn't believe that I truly want to help you and serve your side of this battle. In light of my past, I probably warrant getting sent back to Voldemort's dungeons, to meet whatever fate my failure would bring me there."  
  
I deserve neither your trust, nor your mercy, but I'm afraid I must ask you for one or the other. You see, you are my only hope. If you don't believe me.if you can't find a way to trust me.I must ask you to kill me. I will not go back to Voldemort, and as we both know, there is no way to hide from him, especially not now that he has regained so much power. His fingers stretch wide . . . perhaps wider than you suspect. I have heard that you are wise and merciful, so if you do not believe my story and accept me, please show me the mercy of arranging for my death." 


	3. Chapter 3: Intuition

Chapter Three: Intuition  
  
Dumbledore studied the woman a long while. Then he got up and crossed the room, until he was standing behind her. Adelaide remained still, giving the old wizard time to consider all she had told him and come to his verdict.  
  
She could feel the pressure of his penetrating stare from behind her. It was again as though he were trying to read her, boring a pathway into her very core with his eyes. Only this time, she concentrated on laying herself bare, on opening her soul to Dumbledore and the universe. At this point, all she had left was the truth, and so she focused on her desperate desire to try to right some of the many wrongs she had committed, and for which she constantly chastised herself.  
  
Suddenly, she heard the words from behind her: "I believe you, my dear. Adelaide Mayhem, you are welcome here at Hogwarts, and your assistance in all our efforts is most appreciated."  
  
Adelaide froze. She hadn't really allowed herself to hope for this, and now she couldn't believe her ears. Here eyes wide and filling with tears, she swiveled slowly in the chair until she faced him, and caught her breath when she saw him. For a moment, he no longer looked like the frail, distracted wizard she had seen at the entranceway earlier. He stood tall - - impossibly tall, looming over her - - and there was a glow about him . . . a powerful golden aura that filled the room. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, he was once again just the old headmaster with twinkling eyes.  
  
His welcome, so full of trust and warmth, has rendered her practically speechless, but in a croaking whisper she managed to ask him the one question that repeated itself over and over in her mind: "Headmaster . . . why? How is it possible that you can believe me, after all I've done?"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "For one thing my dear, you remind me very much of someone else I know. A man with a dark past much like your own, who has come to be not just a dear and valued friend, but one of my most trusted and respected allies as well. Beyond that, just call it intuition. Now, my intuition is quite good - - it's only failed me one or two times. But there is another among us whose intuition has never failed, not once in all the time we have been acquainted."  
  
'Another among us,' puzzled Addy . . . "But Headmaster, there's no one else here in this room" she said with concern.  
  
Dumbledore lowered his gaze to her lap, and Addy looked down with shocked wonder to see a very large bird nestled in her lap, fast asleep. It was Fawkes, Dumbledore's majestic phoenix.  
  
"As you unraveled your history for me, my dear, I watched as Fawkes left his perch and lighted in your lap. You were so transfixed with the telling of your story, and in such a state, you didn't even notice him. Fawkes studied you for a long while, and then I saw him do a curious thing. He shed a tear - - which are restorative, you know, Phoenix tears - - and it looked as though he was trying to rub his tears into your robes, at your breast. Finally, with a sad sigh he gave up, and tucked himself into your lap for the remainder of your story. In fact, you have been stroking his feathers the entire time, and I do think he quite likes it."  
  
Adelaide stared at the wondrous bird in amazement, its brilliant feathers like velvet to her touch.  
  
Albus continued, "You're lucky he is in prime form these days. If this had been a burning day, we would have very likely been dousing your robes by now."  
  
"At any rate, Fawkes has never been wrong in his assessment of a person, and I have never seen him take to anyone as he has taken to you. His intuition confirms my own - - we believe that you truly want to help us, and I expect the same loyalty from you as I have asked of the others. They have all sworn to sacrifice their own lives before betraying another member of the group, and I would ask you to do the same."  
  
"I will, Headmaster. I swear it."  
  
"Good then. We have a faculty meeting beginning in about half an hour. There is just enough time for you to meet our Potions Master, change into your Hogwarts robes, and join us so that I may introduce you to the rest of the staff. After that, we'll get you a hearty meal and a good night's rest in your new chambers.  
  
Adelaide wondered why she was to meet the Potions Master first, but she was too happy to care. She was exhausted, from her journey, but even more so from the retelling of her story, which had left her quite spent. But for the first time in years, she had real hope to keep her going, and the promise of a future not overshadowed by despair.  
  
"Oh, and Miss Mayhem?"  
  
"Yes, Headmaster?"  
  
"Call me Albus," he said, as he held open the door to his office and offered her his hand.  
  
As she reached to him, Addy's eyes filled with tears again. "And you must call me Addy."  
  
To be continued. (Next Chapter: Chapter 4-The Potions Master) 


	4. Chapter 4: The Potions Master

Chapter Four: The Potions Master  
  
Addy followed Dumbledore down to the dungeons where the Potions Master worked. She was walking on air, admiring how truly majestic the Hogwarts castle was, when it dawned on her that this was to be her new home. Portraits smiled down at her, introducing themselves and calling out welcomes, and she would swear she'd heard a whistle from an armored knight they passed as they rounded a corner. When the stairways switched mischievously, Dumbledore smiled and commented that they- - the staircases- - were warming up for the arrival of the students.  
  
There was indeed an electricity in the air, as the whole castle seemed to ready itself for another term. She was nearly knocked down by Filch, the caretaker, and two steps later nearly tripped over his cat, as the two of them chased Peeves the resident poltergeist down a corridor. Finally they made their way down into the bowels of the school, and, with her head still spinning, Addy tried to smooth down her hair as Dumbledore knocked on a door that said "Potions Laboratory." She figured she must look like quite the wild child, since it had been a long and grueling day, and even under the best of circumstances her curly auburn hair had a mind of its own. She wanted to make a good impression on the first new colleague she was to meet.  
  
Severus Snape had been in his office all day preparing mixtures and potion samples for the new term. He had so treasured the quiet, solitary days of summer, during which he'd spent day after day in the cool air of his laboratory, testing his theories for new potions and trying to perfect his lycanthropy cure. He sighed sadly, knowing that his peaceful days were numbered, and in just a short time he'd be picking dragon scales out of his hair when yet another inept first-year exploded yet another cauldron.  
  
Just then he heard a knock on his door, and as he moved his wand away from a violently bubbling cauldron, he called out, "Enter."  
  
Addy heard the deep, resonant growl from behind the closed door and reminded herself to stand up straight. 'You're a good witch," she reminded herself. 'Well, you're an accomplished witch, anyway.' With that, the headmaster opened the door and they went inside.  
  
Addy saw a tall, lean wizard standing over a cauldron, his black hair concealing his face as he stared down into a bubbling, black mixture. His right hand was splayed out on the table. His left hand held his wand delicately with long, slender fingers.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat and the potions master looked up at them. When he glared briefly in her direction, she noticed his dark, piercing eyes, and his lips, which were twisted into a scowl - -or was that a pout?  
  
"Headmaster," he said politely yet firmly, "I'm just finishing up here and will be in your office in 15 minutes for the staff meeting. You know I am never late." His voice was deep and soft, yet somehow carried the full length of the classroom. There was just the slightest hint of impatience in it, and Addy surmised that only his immense respect for Dumbledore was keeping in check his irritation at having his work interrupted. Growing up with Death Eaters, she'd learned the value of being observant, and knew how to read people between the lines. She was pretty good at it, although her assumptions weren't always correct.  
  
"Yes, I know, but there is someone I'd like you to meet first," responded Dumbledore. "She has just arrived at Hogwarts and will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor - - I'll explain everything at the staff meeting. In the meantime, Miss Adelaide Mayhem, meet our Potions Master extraordinaire. . . Professor Severus Snape."  
  
Addy froze. Severus Snape! Since she was a little girl, she'd heard the name hundreds, if not thousands of times - - from Voldemort himself! Although only a few years older than she, Snape had been some sort of child prodigy who'd been sent to Voldemort when he was not yet twenty to study under the master. Back in the old days, Voldemort had never stopped talking about his precious Severus Snape, his star Death Eater. Snape, the most promising young wizard in the wizarding world. Snape, destined to become the best potions brewer ever to walk the earth. Snape, the greatest chess opponent. Snape, the utter genius. It had driven her father nearly crazy.  
  
She'd never met him in person, for her father had been extremely protective of her as she was growing up in Voldemort's compound. She had not been allowed to mingle with any wizards and very few witches, even, much less a celebrity like Severus Snape. After Voldemort's return, she'd heard rumors that Snape had come back, and had been tortured for his infidelity following Falling Day, until Voldemort was convinced that his present devotion was sincere. He had never been a patient of hers, though, and since patients were the only witches or wizards she'd been allowed to see for the past two years, she still had never met him.  
  
And here was Voldemort's precious Snape, one of the greatest dark wizards in the whole evil empire, standing before her in the Hogwarts potions lab. So, she thought, THIS is the other Death Eater involved at Hogwarts . . . it wasn't just Lucius after all. Adelaide quickly deduced that Snape had fooled Dumbledore into believing that his Death Eater days were over, while all the while he was plotting with Voldemort on how to do away with the headmaster, deliver Harry Potter, and destroy the school. "Well, Snape," she thought to herself as she reached for her wand, "Your little ruse is over."  
  
In a flash, she jumped in front of Dumbledore, whipping out her wand and pointing it at Snape. "Expelliarmus!" she cried, sending Snape's wand flying into her outstretched hand while he sailed backwards, crashing into the blackboard with a dull thud. Then, her wand still aiming squarely at the potions master, she said in a calm and triumphant voice, "Restringere ed elevare." Instantly, Snape was bound up in thick black leather straps from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, with nothing but his eyes showing - - and, oh, the expression in those eyes! They glowered at Adelaide in fury and disbelief, as he levitated into the air. Then, just for good measure, Adelaide added, "Eversum ed turbinem." With that, Snape flipped head over heels until he was hanging upside down, and started spinning slowly in mid-air.  
  
Adelaide didn't take her eyes, or her wand, off Snape. "Headmaster!" she cried, "He works for Voldemort! He's a top Death Eater! Snape's a spy!!!"  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed into venomous slits. Each time he spun around so that he was facing her, he fixed his gaze on Adelaide, shifting his eyes in their sockets so that they lingered on her for as long as possible, before coming round again. His mind was calmly busy cataloguing what he would do to her when Albus righted the present situation. Had he been able to move his fingers, he would have been drumming them on his thigh, as he mentally ticked off the many curses he knew, rejecting most as being too kind.  
  
Dumbledore's first thought had been, 'That's some impressive magic, and she hasn't even broken a sweat. This girl IS good." Then he thought about how much Snape's bellowing was going to hurt his ears when he got him out of those straps.  
  
Adelaide was still standing in front of her headmaster, and he was touched that she had thrown herself between him and 'the spy' so as to protect him. He bent down and said softly in her ear, "You're quite right, Miss Mayhem. Severus IS a spy. But he's a spy for US. With that, he pointed his wand over her shoulder at Snape and calmly said, "Finite incantatem."  
  
Snape was gently turned right-side-up and floated to the ground, his leather straps falling away and vanishing into thin air with a soft snapping sound.  
  
Adelaide's mouth hung open, as she slowly lowered her wand. Her mind was racing to catch up. She snapped her head from Snape to Dumbledore and back several times, and finally said, "A double agent???"  
  
"That's right, my dear," responded Albus. "Not to mention the best Potions teacher I've ever seen." Adelaide groaned inside at the familiarity of Albus' statement. "I cherish our friendship and trust him as I do the rest of our meager group - - with my life," he added, giving Adelaide a meaningful look that was meant to remind her of the discussion they'd had earlier in his office.  
  
Meanwhile, Severus was walking toward them, slowly yet purposefully. His eyes were still slits that never left Adelaide, his jaw was set, and his lips pursed. His hands balled themselves in and out of fists, his long fingers stretching and flexing. Adelaide thought to herself how she'd never seen such long fingers on anyone, and felt quite sure that they would easily fit around her neck. As he approached, she could see a rather large vein, throbbing at his temple.  
  
Dumbstruck, Adelaide couldn't take her eyes off him. "Way to go, Addy old girl," she thought to herself. "You had to add the upside-down-spinning curse too, didn't you? You had to show off." She heard Dumbledore tell the approaching Snape, "Remember Severus, Miss Mayhem is new here. She's come to help and we do want her to feel welcome."  
  
Snape continued until he was standing about four inches away and directly in front of Adelaide. He stared down at her, for he was nearly a foot taller than she.  
  
"Um . . . so sorry," she said, peering up at him and trying - - unsuccessfully - - not to look and feel ridiculous. She tried to give him a charming smile, but she realized it probably just looked like she was about to be sick. And for good reason.  
  
"My wand," was all he said, ever so softly and clearly. His teeth were still clenched, and she watched his lips curl slowly around every vowel and consonant. He stiffly bent his arm at the elbow, palm facing upward.  
  
"Huh?" said Adelaide.  
  
"You are holding my wand in your left hand, and I would like it back." Eyes still glowering, jaw still set.  
  
"Oh, yes of course," she responded. And didn't move.  
  
"NOW!!!" he roared, and Adelaide felt the force of his holler blow back her hair. She soundlessly handed him his wand. He twitched his head towards Dumbledore saying, "I'll see you in exactly five minutes at the staff meeting," spun on his heels, and in a few quick strides had crossed the room and stormed off into his office at the back of the laboratory, his black robes whipping and swirling around his long legs. The door to his office closed behind him with a resounding crash.  
  
"Oh, and Severus . . ." called Dumbledore after him.  
  
"WHAT?" came the snarl from behind the closed office door.  
  
"You will be Miss Mayhem's mentor, until she . . . well . . . finds her feet here," he called over his shoulder, as he quickly ushered Adelaide out the door of the laboratory and into the hallway.  
  
. . . To be continued . . . 


	5. Chapter 5: Questions, Answers, and More ...

Chapter 5: Questions, Answers, and More Questions  
  
Dumbledore summoned a house elf to show Addy to her chambers, a warm, inviting suite high up in one of the towers. Golden, late-summer light filled each room from the many windows, and Addy marveled as she ran her hands over the beautifully carved masonry surrounding the walk-in fireplace. The gigantic four-poster bed covered in fluffy blankets and duvets took her breath away, for she had never experienced such comfort and hospitality. The vista from her bedroom window encompassed the grounds of Hogwarts including the lake, which was beginning to reflect the colors of the setting sun. In the far distance, she could see the town of Hogsmeade, which would be twinkling in the night sky shortly.  
  
But there was no time for admiring the view just yet. Glammy, her house- elf escort, was waiting outside her door while she quickly changed into her new Hogwarts robes. They were a royal purple, spun from an utterly mysterious, silk-like material that felt both delicate as a spider web and strong as steel mesh.. The dress shimmered ever so slightly as it caught the low, evening sunlight. She saw that several sets had been placed in her armoire, along with additional ones in wool and velvet for the cooler months. The color was actually quite flattering to Addy's auburn hair and brought out the gold in her green eyes. She took a quick look in the mirror, struggled with her curls for a moment, and rejoined Glammy, who would escort her to Dumbledore's office for the staff meeting. They would have to hurry if they were to make it in time, and Glammy politely urged Addy to go faster the entire way. Nonetheless, Addy tried to remember the route so that she wouldn't need an escort each time.  
  
They were rounding the last corner at a full-out run, when she saw someone come around the opposite corner, moving swiftly in their direction. She and Glammy skidded to a halt just short of crashing in to the other visitor, directly across from the gargoyle that guarded the way to the Headmaster's office. The other late arrival was, of course, Severus Snape.  
  
Glammy took one look at the ferocious glint in Snape's eyes and, with a terrified squeak, stammered, "Here you is, Miss Mayhem. Dumbledore's office. Glammy must be off now," and with a snap of her fingers, she vanished in a poof, leaving a breathless and slightly flushed Addy alone with Snape.  
  
Snape let out what sounded like a low growl, then, glaring at her, he snapped, "Fairy Cake!"  
  
"Excuse me?" rasped Addy. Was he suffering some sort of mental disconnect as a result of her spells, she thought.  
  
Just then, the gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, and Addy realized that "Fairy Cake" was the password. She was about to proceed in front of Snape, being used to "Witches First" courtesy of course, when he jostled her lightly aside and started up the stairs.  
  
'I don't like him,' she thought to herself.  
  
"Where'd you learn your manners?" she said under her breath, as she followed close on his heels.  
  
Snape stopped in his tracks and spun around, crouching down so that he peered at her face to face from inches away through the spiral armature. "From Voldemort, remember?" he spat out with a sneer. "YOU'RE the expert on Severus Snape, aren't you?" With that, he stormed up the rest of the stairs, kicking up a cloud of black robes behind him.  
  
Addy entered Dumbledore's office on Snape's heels. The rest of the staff was there waiting for them, and were surprised to see not only a new face, but also to see Professor Snape looking slightly disheveled and out of breath. Professor Minerva MacGonagall peered at the two of them down her glasses, and said, "Severus, it's not like you to be late for a staff meeting."  
  
"Thank you, Minerva, I know that," he barked. "This is, in fact, the first time I have ever been late. You can thank our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for that," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards Addy.  
  
All eyes were on Addy for just a beat, before the room erupted in questions, and more than a few protests. Dumbledore quieted the room by saying, "Thank you, Severus, for relieving me of the burden of my announcement," with a lightly admonishing look in Snape's direction. "But I believe a more proper introduction of Miss Mayhem is in order."  
  
Snape had sulked down into the last remaining empty armchair, leaving Addy to stand in the corner of the room. Fawkes gave her a welcoming trill, and flew over to her, settling in on her shoulder. The bird was big and heavy, but Addy didn't mind. She was happy to have at least one friend in the room, besides Dumbledore of course.  
  
The headmaster then gave the staff an abridged version of Addy's story, telling them that she had been a former Death Eater, but had long since renounced her association with Voldemort and wanted to start a new leaf here at Hogwarts. He told them of her studies in India, and a bit about her experience with the Dark Arts. Addy was glad that he wisely left out the work she'd be doing as a double agent. She knew that Dumbledore trusted his staff, but that information would and should be dispensed only on a need-to-know basis.  
  
Dumbledore made it quite clear that, despite her history as a Death Easter, he trusted her completely, and found her to be highly qualified. "This isn't the first time we've welcomed a former Death Eater into our midst," he reminded them, "and if history repeats itself, we shall be quite privileged indeed." With that, more than a few eyes glanced inadvertently at Snape, who was sitting with his arms folded in front of him, apparently lost in thought. Dumbledore finished with, "Forgive me for making this unilateral decision, when you have all been so helpful in your contributions to our search for a Defense instructor. But, you must believe me when I tell you that it was mostly out of my hands. It was really Fawkes' decision, and who would argue with that?"  
  
When Albus was done, the staff turned to their new colleague, whose hair was being nibbled on affectionately by the large Phoenix. This seemed to satisfy most of them, and they regarded her with new respect.  
  
Albus then introduced Adelaide to each staff member in turn, mentioning their name and their specialty and, where appropriate, the House with which they were associated. Most gave her a cordial, even hearty, welcome. A few questions about her background and plans for the course were directed toward Adelaide, and she answered them eagerly and thoroughly. Madame Pomfrey set up an appointment to meet privately with her once the term began, as she had a keen interest in the healing arts Addy had learned from her old tutor.  
  
After some business pertaining to the start of the new term and a change in the password policy for the House dormitories, the room gradually dissolved into friendly chatter signaling the unofficial end of the staff meeting. It was then that Snape stood up suddenly and strided over to where Addy was talking with Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sinistra.  
  
Before she knew what had happened, Snape had grabbed Adelaide's left wrist, and pushed up the sleeve of her robe to her elbow. He passed his hand over her skin, muttering, "Lividis Speculabilis" over and over, while he ran his long fingers lightly up and down her inner arm, peering closely at her flesh. The whole room fell silent and drew in closer. Addy was at first dumbfounded, but after a few seconds, she realized what Snape was trying to do. He was trying to conjure her Dark Mark for everyone to see!  
  
His grip on her arm was so strong, that she had to snatch it away from him with great force, causing herself to stumble backwards. Fawkes took off with a cry, swooping back to his regular perch. Addy quickly pulled down her sleeve to cover her arm. "STOP THAT !" she shouted at him, "You have no right!"  
  
Addy felt her heart pounding and her hands start to tremble. The room had suddenly become quite small, and the crowd seemed to be pressing in on her. Snape was giving her a penetrating stare, with a strange light in his eyes that Addy didn't understand.  
  
Albus and Minerva came over to break up the disturbance, while the other professors backed off, whispering among themselves. If she had been a Death Eater, then she ought to have a Dark Mark like all the others, including Professor Snape. Yet despite Snape's incantation, no Dark Mark had shown itself - - she didn't appear to have one. But why under the heavens would anyone lie about having been a Death Eater, if they really hadn't been one? And what did this mean for her credibility-should they trust her as one of them, and with their students?  
  
"What's all this, then, when we were just about to end this meeting on a rare, happy note?" Dumbledore inquired. Snape was still looking at her with a smug grin developing across his face.  
  
Addy felt tears threatening and struggled to keep her composure. The last thing she wanted to do, in spite of this humiliation, was to cry in front of the entire Hogwarts staff.  
  
Addy replied, trying to control the quiver in her voice and to sound nonchalant. "Professor Snape was just trying to demonstrate my Dark Mark for everyone." Then she added, with a momentary glare right back in his direction, "I guess he thought that would be quite an amusing show for the rest of the staff."  
  
"Yes," said Snape, his molasses voice dripping with mock curiosity, "but you don't seem to have one, do you? Now . . . I have never heard of a Death Eater who had not been branded with the Dark Mark. Ever. You must regale us, Miss Mayhem, with the fascinating tale of how you managed to escape THAT honor." His eyes were glowing, triumphant.  
  
Adelaide stared at him with fury and loathing. Snape had stumbled on one of Addy's most agonizing and shameful secrets, threatening to expose it before the entire staff on her first day at Hogwarts. She couldn't help but wonder if there was some way he could perhaps know about her Dark Mark? No . . . it was impossible. No one knew, save possibly Voldemort, and she wasn't even sure about that.  
  
This was most likely Snape's way of getting revenge on her for blasting him in his Potions Laboratory earlier. He probably just meant to disgrace her by showing everyone the hideous mark that ought to have emerged on her arm. He must have been pleasantly surprised, she thought bitterly, when it didn't appear, thus adding a whole new layer of suspicion and embarrassing questions to what he thought would be just a simple prank.  
  
Addy blinked back tears and stammered, "I . . . I . . . I DO have a Dark Mark. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that, Snape," she spat at him. "It's just . . . it's just that it . . . it isn't on my arm."  
  
Snape lifted an eyebrow at her, and his eyes darkened. "What do you mean it isn't on your arm?" he spat back, angrily. "Death Eaters ALWAYS get branded on their inner left arm. It's Voldemort's way." Addy thought she saw the briefest flash of something behind his eyes-pain? Regret? She couldn't tell. And then it was gone.  
  
"Yes, well, that's the way it starts out, isn't it?" she replied quietly. "But it's not always the way it ends up. Not always." Addy looked down at the ground. She was beginning to feel that she could no longer take this. That's when Dumbledore interrupted.  
  
"I'm sure Miss Mayhem has many stories to tell - - mostly painful ones - - about her past experiences with Voldemort. But they are HER stories, Severus. She will share them if and when she finds herself ready to do so.  
  
Snape hesitated, and Adelaide could see him looking at her in a very curious way, out of the corner of her eye. She was staring at a spot on the floor in front of her, fearing that she would just collapse in tears if she had to confront anyone or anything else today. Then he turned to Dumbledore and said quietly, "If that is all for tonight, Albus, I still have a good deal of work to do before turning in. Please excuse me."  
  
Dumbledore replied, "I would like to see you in my office tomorrow morning at 9:00. Good Night, Severus."  
  
Snape left the room and the other teachers took his lead, filing out singly or in murmering pairs. Some were kind enough to wish Addy another welcome or good night, others just brushed past her, trying not to look her way. Professor MacGonagall, however, was the last to leave, and came right up to her, squeezing her hand. "Don't let Severus get to you - - his bark is a lot worse than his bite," she said. "If you are Albus' choice, and apparently Fawkes' choice as well, then that's all we need to know. Welcome to Hogwarts." MacGonagall managed a stiff smile, but Addy instinctively knew that it was more than most people got out of her, and she smiled warmly back.  
  
When they were alone together, Albus said, "You've had quite a long and eventful first day on the job, I'm afraid. Get a good night's rest, and tomorrow morning I would also like to see you, along with Severus, here at 9:00." When Addy opened her mouth to protest, Dumbledore silenced her with, "Severus just needs a bit of time to get used to you. The two of you didn't exactly get off on the right foot, you know, but you have a lot in common. There are not many former Death Eaters who live to tell about it. The work you two are doing for the Order of the Phoenix will be quite delicate and dangerous, and I am afraid you will need to rely on one another more than once in the future."  
  
Addy looked at him questioningly, her eyelids starting to droop, "The Order of the Phoenix?"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and said, with a paternal grin, "Miss Mayhem . . . don't you think you've learned enough for one day? There will be time for more questions and answers tomorrow. Sleep well, my dear."  
  
With that, he escorted her down the spiral staircase, where Glammy was once again waiting to take her back to her room. Addy barely managed to get her robes off before her head hit the pillow and she fell instantly into a deep slumber.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	6. Chapter 6: The Night Castle

Author's Note:  thank you to Riley and the "Pawn to Queen" story, for the insssssspiration of the snake voice.

Chapter Six:  The Night Castle

Every day the body works in the fields of the world  
mending a stone wall  
or swinging a sickle through the tall grass--  
the grass of civics, the grass of money--  
and every night the body curls around itself  
and listens for the soft bells of sleep.  
  


But the heart is restless and rises  
from the body in the middle of the night,   
and leaves the trapezoidal bedroom  
with its thick, picture-less walls  
to sit by herself at the kitchen table  
and heat some milk in a pan.   
  


And the mind gets up too, puts on a robe  
and goes downstairs, lights a cigarette,   
and opens a book on engineering.   
  


Even the conscience awakens  
and roams from room to room in the dark,   
darting away from every mirror like a strange fish.   
  


And the soul is up on the roof  
in her nightdress, straddling the ridge,   
singing a song about the wildness of the sea  
until the first rip of pink appears in the sky.   
  


Then, they all will return to the sleeping body  
the way a flock of birds settles back into a tree,   
resuming their daily colloquy,   
talking to each other or themselves  
even through the heat of the long afternoons.   
Which is why the body--that house of voices--  
sometimes puts down its metal tongs, its needle, or its pen  
to stare into the distance,   
to listen to all its names being called  
before bending again to its labor.   
  


--Billy Collins  
U.S. Poet Laureate  
**********************************  
  


That night, as she slept soundly in her wonderful new bed, Adelaide had the strangest dream.  Ever since her days as a Death Eater, she had been frequented by vague nightmares.  They were usually amorphous, disjointed narratives, punctuated by the howling death rattles and primeval screams of the victims of Death Eater attacks.  Although Addy had never killed anyone directly herself, her machinations within Voldemort's empire had resulted in the deaths of hundreds, perhaps thousands, and she never forgot that.  She accepted these nightmares as part of her penance.  Truth be told, she felt she was getting off lightly.

But that night, she had a different kind of dream altogether.  This one was coherent and mostly linear, and seemed very real.  In it, she was back in India, sitting in her Hogwarts robes on the earthen floor in the hut of her old teacher, Dharani.  Dharani said to her, "My child, you look happy.  But there is something you lack.  What is it--tell me."

Adelaide said to her, "I'm thirsty, Dharani.  I'm so thirsty."

"Then you should drink," said Dharani.

"But," replied Addy, "I don't know where to find the watering hole.  I don't even know where to look for it."

Dharani then said, "You have a good heart, my child.  Listen to your heart.  Feed it.  Do not disparage it so.  Your heart will show you where the water is."   Then Dharani kissed her on the forehead, and walked out of the hut.

Addy stayed there a while longer by herself.  When she left, she emerged from the hut to find herself in the middle of a desert. There was nothing to be seen in any direction except sand dunes, stretching all the way to the horizon, and the blinding sun in a cloudless sky.  Addy sat down in the sand and began to cry--the sun was burning hot on her head, she was all alone, and she had no idea which way to turn.  Just then, she heard music from very, very far off, and she had a sudden flash of inspiration: the music would lead her to water!  

Addy walked for what seemed like hours, maybe even days, following the mysterious music that never seemed to get any closer.  She was parched and burnt from the sun and the dust.  Finally, she saw something shimmering in the distance, and she staggered in its direction.

Soon, she saw what was shimmering--it was a lake, with clear blue water.  And in the middle of the lake was Severus Snape, sitting on a bench, playing a muggle piano.  The bench and the piano mysteriously rested on the surface of the water.  Snape did not look at Addy or even seem to notice her.  He played beautifully with his long fingers, and the music was like a balm to her tired soul.

She bent down to the water at the edge of the lake to drink, but when she saw her reflection, she gasped and backed away.  Instead of her face reflected in the water, she saw the face of Voldemort's traditional Dark Mark:  a gaping skull with a thick snake slithering out of its mouth.

Addy was afraid to look back into the water, but her thirst was unbearable.  Snape's music helped to calm her, and she uneasily approached the water and bent back down to look into it again.

This time she saw her own reflection, but in it, a large green snake was draped around her shoulders, its forked tongue hissing in her ear.  Addy stood up again without drinking, and the snake was still upon her.  It slithered off her shoulders and coiled in front of her, stretching its head upward until it was face to face with her.

The snake said, "Thisss water issss no good…it issss tainted.  Follow me and I will give you a righteousssss drink.  I will give you water that will tasssssste good and make you ssssstronger …it will make you invinnnssssible."

Addy hesitated, unsure of herself.  For a moment, she didn't know whether to believe the snake or not.  Just then, Snape stopped playing, and Addy gazed over at him.  He was looking down at his hands forlornly, and then looked up at Addy from across the lake.  He just stared at her for a long while, with the saddest expression she had ever seen, and Addy looked back into his eyes, wondering why he looked so melancholy.

When Addy turned back to the snake, it was gone, and in its place stood her father.  "Come back, Adelaide," he said.  "We are waiting for you.  We forgive you.  Come back with me," and he held out a hand toward her.  Confused, Addy looked over at Snape, and he was again looking down at his hands, rubbing them as though they pained him.

Addy's father continued, "I gave you blood.  Your mother gave you milk.  You don't need this water.  You are better than this.  Come back with me now, Addy.  You're my shining star, my salvation.  You always were.  I miss you so much.  Please come back."

Addy tried to think but she was torn.  She new she shouldn't listen to the snake _or_ her father, but she was plagued by a sudden rush of childhood memories.  Her father had been the one who had taught her how to walk, how to read and write, how to ride her first broomstick, how to conjure her first spell.  He had always called her his "Addy-Lady," and had showered her with attention and encouragement when she was a young witch.  She now knew he was a murderer, and a madman, but growing up, he had still been her one and only father, and his words spoke to Addy's most basic instincts.

In her uncertainty and frustration, Addy took in a deep sigh and let it out.  When she exhaled, her breath turned into a mighty wind, which swirled and kicked up a violent dust storm all around her.  Addy closed her eyes and tried to shield herself with her arms, while the sand and wind raged about her.

When the storm finally subsided, Addy looked up to see that she was alone by the lake.  Her father had disappeared, and so had Snape and the piano.  She stood in complete silence, thirstier than ever, and walked over to the shore for a third time.

This time, sitting at the water's edge was a shining, silver chalice, encrusted with brilliant emeralds sparkling in the sun.  She somehow knew it was meant for her, but still was unsure whether she should drink from the lake.  Just then, Dharani's words came back to her, and she knew that her heart had led her there.

She dipped the goblet into the lake and filled it with water, draining it in several gulps.  It tasted cool and sweet, instantly reviving her.  She drank several more cupfuls, admiring the mysterious pattern that was carved in the silver, and the way it fit her hand perfectly.  When she had satisfied her thirst, Addy took off her robes and walked into the lake up to her shoulders.  She dipped herself under and played in the water a while, splashing and rubbing it into her skin and hair, in an attempt to wash away the dust and sand of her journey.  When at last she felt fully refreshed, she stepped back onto dry land, put her robes back on, and tucked the goblet into the pocket in her sleeve.

Suddenly, the music resumed.  The piano was back, in the middle of the lake, and so was Snape.  This time he was playing with even more passion than before, and a content smile played across his lips.

Addy woke up to the first streaks of daylight peeking through her bedroom window, the sound of piano music still ringing in her ears.

*****

Meanwhile…

Severus Snape was having trouble sleeping.  He paced around and around his dungeon bedroom in black silk pajamas, a snifter of firewhiskey cradled in his hand.  

He'd finally thought he'd had it all figured out…everything under control…all the elements of his life falling neatly and unambiguously into place.  He was completely devoted to the work he was doing for Dumbledore--his work as Potions Master, as head of Slytherin House, and, more recently, his role as a double-agent for the Order.  Plus, it was no easy task keeping Harry Potter safe from harm, as he had pledged to Dumbledore, while at the same time managing Lucius Malfoy and his spawn, Draco.  He was fine with things as they were, and he didn't need any new distractions.

Albus had been the only person to ever trust him…to show him both kindness and respect, perhaps even love.  And all that when he knew Snape had been a Death Eater…and all the terrible things he'd done in the service of Voldemort …

He took another sip of his drink, to help wash away the memories.  

The worst thing, he thought, would be to let Dumbledore down.  He needed to focus on his work--there was so much still to do.  Yet how was he supposed to focus with HER around?  

In just one day, Adelaide Mayhem had gotten under his skin.  She'd plagued his thoughts all day, and now his mind was racing with questions, impressions, and visions of her, keeping him awake when he really needed to sleep.

She perplexed him.  He still wasn't sure if he believed her story, although he very much wanted to trust Dumbledore's instincts.  And yet, the Snapes had been deeply involved in dark circles long before Voldemort's rise and fall--stretching back for generations, in fact--and he had never heard so much as the mention of another family by the name of Mayhem.  And, if she had indeed been a Death Eater, where was her Dark Mark? Every Death Eater had one, including himself, and despite his heroic, and sometimes violent, attempts to remove the loathed stigma from his flesh, nothing had ever worked.  What had she meant by her comment at the staff meeting: "That's the way it starts out, isn't it? But it's not always the way it ends up."  

Yes, he thought, she's certainly an enigma.  He took another large sip.

What was it about her, anyway?  Clearly, she was beautiful, with a strong and passionate glimmer in her green-gold eyes.  He'd bet a million galleons that she was smart _and_ stubborn, too, he thought with a chuckle into his drink. He could just tell from the way she set her jaw.  And she was talented, no doubt.  That stunt she'd pulled in his laboratory was no cheap magician's trick, and yet she looked like she could have done it in her sleep.  

Severus stopped in front of his dressing mirror, and took a long look at himself.  He'd experienced very little affection in his lifetime, and had never really known love.  His life had turned in a dark and lonely direction at an early age, and, from the time his parents had sent him to study under Voldemort, he had become increasingly isolated and mistrustful.

Since leaving the Death Eaters and coming to Hogwarts, he had simply resigned himself to the belief that love simply was not in the cards for him.  In truth, deep down he did not feel he deserved it.  He was aware of all the loves and lives he'd destroyed during his Death Eater days, and had sentenced himself to a life of solitude as his sacrament.

He scanned his mirror's reflection for some trace of hope, some promise of relief from his loneliness, some remnant of the boyish and innocent smile he once had.  All he could see was a frightened and confused young wizard, hiding behind a mask while he carried out his orders like a dog, alternately lapping up praise and cowering in the wake of his master's wrath.  At the time, years ago, it was the only way he'd known to connect with another person, his only source of attention and approval.  But when it was all over, he had been left with nothing--completely alone and bereft.  That's when he'd found Dumbledore.

 "Who are you trying to kid, you fool?" he said out loud to his reflection.  "Who would ever want to be with you…especially a witch so beautiful, so promising, so clever..." 

Turning away from the mirror, he heard a voice in his head say, "Well, she's obviously got Dumbledore convinced of her sincerity."   

 "Yes, that's true," another voice in his head replied. "And you trust Dumbledore--he has never let you down" 

"If she is lying," said the first voice, "if she means to betray Dumbledore and the Order…

 "What then?" asked the second voice.

 "I will kill her," answered the first.  

 "And if not?" said the second voice. "What if she's…the real thing?"

Severus drowned the voices in his head by draining the firewhiskey from his glass.  He couldn't--wouldn't--let himself hope.  Then he turned off the lights and got into bed, staring at the drapes that surrounded his four-poster bed.  The swirls and patterns of the brocade fabric reminded him of Adelaide's auburn curls…

* * * * *

And yet another wizard in Hogwarts castle was still awake, sipping from a mug of hot butterbeer.

Dumbledore sat on the window seat of his bedroom in his long nightdress, gazing out at the night sky, amused by the musical snores coming from his Phoenix in the corner.  

Yet, a telltale crease of concern furrowed his brow.

This war was wearing on him, and he wasn't even sure it had really started yet.  Today, an interesting new development for the Order of the Phoenix had come to Hogwarts in the form of Adelaide Mayhem.  The girl was a puzzle, it was true, but he was sure he saw a pure heart inside of her.   And he desperately needed intelligence from inside Voldemort's compound, to gain the edge in this blasted war.

Yet, how could he ask yet another to give of herself as he had asked Severus to do…indeed, as all the members of the Order had volunteered to do?  This would mean yet another of his colleagues--good-hearted witches and wizards, all--living in constant danger, their lives dominated by the fight to destroy Voldemort.  

Well, he reasoned with himself…she needs a second chance, and we need the information only she can provide.  It's a fair trade.  

He took another long sip of his butterbeer.

He hoped he was doing the right thing, throwing Severus and Adelaide together.  He couldn't help but smile, thinking about how much she had reminded him of a younger Snape, standing in his office years before.  Even the words she'd used had been so similar to his.

Severus had been just as earnest, and just as damaged, when he first arrived at Hogwarts.  They had come so far together since then, yet there was a part of Snape that neither Dumbledore, nor anyone else, had been able to reach. 

 "They came here for salvation, didn't they?" he asked himself.  "And, like so many other things in this life, Albus old boy, you know that the best way to find it…is to give it."

Yes, he reassured himself, they would find their way.  And he would do his best to guide them.

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7: Beginnings

Chapter 7: Beginnings

Nine o'clock the next morning found Snape and Adelaide sitting in Dumbledore's office, not looking at one another. 

They had arrived to find a note from Dumbledore, written in a silvery-gray mist that hung in the air over his desk, informing them that he had been detained, and would join them shortly. So they had each settled into one of the large, comfortable armchairs across from the Headmaster's desk, and there they sat in silence as the minutes ticked away.

Snape was intensely aware of the light scent of jasmine coming from her direction. Adelaide was intensely aware of the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Finally, without looking at him, she broke the silence by blurting out, "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I thought I was doing the right thing—how was I supposed to know that you're a double agent?"

"Is that what you plan to teach in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class—hex first, ask questions later?" he sneered, still not looking at her.

Adelaide ignored his question and continued to stare straight ahead. "I mean, isn't that the whole _point _of being a double agent—that no one's supposed to know you _are _one?" she asked of no one in particular.

"Well, you've demonstrated your abilities at attacking, but we've yet to see if you can teach defense. Do be sure to let me know if you'd like to exhibit your skills in _that_ area, and I'd be happy to help out," he said sarcastically.

"Anyway, you should take it as a compliment," she spat back, finally turning to face him. "You must obviously be doing a…_satisfactory_ job of it, since as far as I can tell, no one including Voldemort himself has the slightest suspicion that you're working for Dumbledore."

"Yes, well, the next time you decide to give me a 'compliment,' let's hope I have my wand in hand to return the favor," he said.

They sank back into silence for a few minutes, which was again broken by Adelaide.

"You're his favorite, you know."

There was a pause. Then he said quietly, "I sincerely doubt I am anyone's favorite anything, Miss Mayhem. And I have no idea what you're talking about."

His self-deprecation disarmed her, and she turned to stare at him. "You're Voldemort's favorite Death Eater. Believe me, I know it's no great honor, but you ought to be aware of it. You really don't _know_ that?"

"Noooo," he responded slowly, turning his whole body slowly to face her, "and I am quite curious as to how _you_ would know such a thing." That suspicious gleam that was already so familiar was back in his eyes. Yet his look was also filled with other emotions--too many for Adelaide to read, each competing with the other.

Suddenly, she realized that Snape had not been made privy to her full story. He had only heard the edited version Dumbledore had offered to the rest of the staff. She didn't feel like launching into it all over again, and anyway she suspected that one of the reasons Dumbledore had called them here this morning was to fill Snape in on the details. 

So she just replied: "It's simple. Voldemort would boast all day about you to my father. Then my father would rage all night about you to my mother. For me, it was a simple matter of eavesdropping. You drive him nuts—my father, that is."

Snape was astonished. "Your father?" he said. "And just who is your father?"

Just then, Dumbledore entered the room. 'Saved by the Headmaster…again,' thought Addy.

Dumbledore made his apologies and sat down behind his desk. As Addy had guessed, his first task was to inform Snape of her involvement in Voldemort's circle, and of the work she'd be doing, with him, as a second double agent for the Order. As Dumbledore recounted her history, Addy stared down at her hands in her lap. It wasn't any more pleasant to hear it that it had been to tell it not 24 hours earlier.

Snape listened intently, processing the information quickly. His eyes did not leave Dumbledore the entire time. When the Headmaster was finished, there was a long silence, while they all contemplated the full import of what they were about to undertake.

Finally, Dumbledore said, "Severus, do you have any questions, for either me or Miss Mayhem?"

Adelaide felt her stomach knot up. She hoped he would not bring up her Dark Mark again.

After a pensive pause, Severus said, "Yes," and turned to Adelaide, a look of deep concern creasing his face. He continued in a measured tone, his eyes boring into hers. "Apparently, your family is heavily ensconced in dark circles, yet I have never of the Mayhems. How is that possible?" he asked her.

"Mayhem is my mother's family name," Adelaide responded evenly. "They are not dark wizards, and she has had no contact with them since she married my father. I have never known them."

Snape nodded and replied, "Well, then, that brings us back to the question you were about to answer when Albus joined us: who is your father?"

Adelaide looked him square in the eye, and said levelly, "You know him."

She saw an eyebrow go up.

"My father is Iscarious Jones."

She had to admit that she found his reaction most gratifying, and Addy struggled to maintain her detached expression. His face blanched and his mouth gaped open.

"Y—you are Iscarious' daughter?" he sputtered.

"In the flesh," she replied, with a wry smile.

Snape took a deep breath and regained his composure. He'd heard of Jones' daughter—all the Death Eaters had—although very few had ever seen her. The rumors said she was supposed to be some sort of virgin princess, locked away in waiting for Voldemort. 

He turned to Dumbledore and said, "Albus, we are playing with hellfire, here. You are aware of that?"

Dumbledore replied, "No more so than you are with Voldemort, Severus. And, according to Adelaide's reaction to you yesterday, you are doing a fine job of convincing him that you are loyal to him, and not to me. I expect you will teach Adelaide everything you know, so she can do the same."

"The work you've done has been invaluable to the Order, and has saved many lives," Albus continued. "I'm hoping that with the two of you working together on different angles within Voldemort's circle, we can be many times more effective."

"There's something I don't understand," said Severus, turning to Addy. "If you were sent by Voldemort and Lucius, why didn't they tell you about me? Why didn't they tell you they already had a Death Eater working within Hogwarts?"

Addy shook her head, saying, "I don't know. It's been bothering me since I found out about you. I can't figure out what their motivation was for keeping it s secret. Perhaps it was a test?"

"You mean, a little game to see how long it would take us to discover one another?" said Snape.

"Maybe," replied Addy. "I just don't know. I can find out the next time I am called back."

"So, you have thought through your stategy, then, for when you are called to report to Voldemort?" asked Snape.

"Yes, I've thought through a lot of strategies," said Addy, eagerly moving to the edge of her seat. She began speaking very fast, her eyes glittering brightly, as she rattled off her plans. "We'll need to manage several fronts of _misinformation_: reports on Dumbledore, reports on the activities of the Order, reports on the Potter boy, and, quite possibly, reports on one another. I have a suspicion that we will be asked to keep an eye on each other, as assurance that we each remain loyal to Voldemort. We must coordinate our stories, so that they match, but not too closely--we don't want it to seem as though we're working in collusion. In fact, I will probably have to pretend to hate you, in order to stay in my father's good graces. And, all the while, we can be delivering information back from the compound to Dumbledore, so as to foil as many Death Eater attacks as possible. The most important thing in that arena is to always have a scapegoat from within Voldemort's circle, so that he doesn't become suspicious of the information we've provided him. But we must choose our scapegoats wisely. It shouldn't be too difficult, however, since he trusts almost no one and there is practically no limit to the number of expendable Death Eaters we can use. Sort of kills two birds with one stone, doesn't it?"

She heard a cry of protest from the corner, and, said over her shoulder, "Sorry Fawkes, it's just an expression."

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a look. They were impressed. She obviously had a firm grasp of the situation.

But Snape was still overwhelmed with concern. "Well, you clearly understand the scope of the work involved, but it's easier said than done. We will have to practice."

A phrase she had spoken was ringing through the back of his mind: 'I will have to _pretend _to hate you.' "It's a start," said a voice in his head. "Now _focus_, you silly git." 

Dumbledore clapped his hands together and said with a smile, "Well, you two have your work cut out for you. In addition, Miss Mayhem, you will need to prepare for the new term. We must remember that we all still have an obligation to the students of this school. Since there is so little time, I have owled Remus Lupin to ask his assistance. He has already taught this course, and I was delighted to hear that he still has all his notes and lesson plans. His schedule will allow him to stay here at Hogwarts for the next few days, to help you get up and running."

Severus scowled inwardly at the thought of Adelaide working with Lupin. 

Dumbledore continued, "My suggestion is that you work with Remus on your course during the day, and with Severus in the evening. Once the term begins, you will have to keep up with your lessons and grading, while you continue your night time strategy sessions. Our "resistance fighters," as you termed them, Adelaide, is called the Order of the Phoenix. We will continue to meet regularly and I'll ask the two of you to report on your tactics of misinformation, and any news you glean from Voldemort's compound. In fact, with Remus here, I think I will call an emergency meeting of the Order for tomorrow night. Severus, would you show Adelaide to her classroom and office?"

Severus nodded in agreement. Addy's head was spinning, but she was eager to get started and excited about this chance to work hard for a good cause and, just maybe, accomplish something that would address the sins of her past.

As though he had read her mind, Dumbledore added, "This is an awful lot of work. We are but a small band, desperately facing a much larger empire of evil, but hopefully some good will come of it. I don't want you two getting lost in it, however. You must keep up your strength. Adelaide—please see that he eats."

Adelaide and Dumbledore exchanged a smile, while Snape rolled his eyes. They left the office together, and could hear Dumbledore humming merrily to himself as the door closed behind them.

To be continued…

* * * * *

Note from author: some of you may be wondering why I've given this story an R rating. I promise things will heat up shortly. Please hang in there!


	8. Chapter 8: New Friends, Old Enemies

Chapter 8:  New Friends, Old Enemies

Snape led Adelaide through the hallways.  They were each lost in their own thoughts, and so it was a quiet, contemplative walk.

When they reached the old Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, with its office in the back, Snape told Adelaide the unlocking charm for the door.  He reflexively took a step back as she whipped out her wand to unlock it, and Addy had to suppress a smile.  

The condition of the classroom quickly brought her down to earth. The old grindylow tank stood in a corner, empty except for the wild, possibly carnivorous strain of mildew it seemed to be cultivating.  Against the back wall leaned a run-down Bogart Closet, protected by many locking charms.  Addy also noticed a large, broken, empty cage piled in a corner—it looked as though one of her predecessors had introduced the class to a horde of pixies.  

'Hmmmph,' she thought to herself, 'These kids will have to know about a lot more than bogarts, grindyli and pixies if they're to help in the fight against Voldemort.'  And so she set to work getting her classroom in order.  She would need to clear out the inordinate amount of dust and the weird smell that had settled in over the summer, and make inventory lists of what was in supply and what she thought might be needed. 

Snape was standing awkwardly in the doorway, surveying the room.  He once again had that conflicted look Adelaide had seen in his eyes before, as though he was arguing with himself about something.  She had never realized how vulnerable he could look, standing there bathed in sunlight on the threshold, as though a part of him really did want to come in.  She realized, for the first time, that her presence at Hogwarts might serve as a rather painful reminder of his first days here, and even of his earlier days as a Death Eater.  Suddenly, she very much wanted him to stay, so they could get to know one another.  She truly regretted the inauspicious way they had first met, and wanted to prove to him that she could be not only a competent colleague and master strategist, but a loyal and trustworthy friend as well.

"Um, I could make some tea, if you'd like to stay.  You'll have to make yourself useful, though," she said to him, with a hopeful, bashful smile.

The sound of her voice snapped him out of his reverie.  "I have work to do," he said brusquely.  Pausing at the doorway another moment, he looked at her strangely, then turned abruptly and walked out into the corridor, leaving the door open behind him.  

Addy shook her head as she listened to his footsteps recede down the hallway.  She couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps the argument he was having with himself had something to do with her, and that it was making him profoundly sad.  

'Get over yourself, Adelaide.  He probably has trouble remembering your name,' she said to herself.

Addy worked all morning on getting her classroom and office just the way she wanted it.  She'd never had an office of her own like this, and she must have rearranged the furniture and classroom configuration at least five times.  It was a hot day and the sun was blazing through the classrooms many windows.  As it reached high noon it had grown so warm that, since no one was around, she'd taken off her shoes and outer robes and now stood barefoot in loose black linen pants tied low with a drawstring at her hips, and a black tank top.  Despite her stripped-down attire, she was glistening with sweat.  She piled her hair on top of her head, twisting it and securing it with her wand, to help cool off her neck and back.  Deciding that she was finally satisfied with her work, Addy surveyed the room while she massaged her aching wand arm. 

Just then, she heard a light knock on the door, which had been left open to get some air in the room.  Assuming it was her mentor come to check up on her, Addy said, "What do you think, Snape?  Like it?" as she spun around to see two unfamiliar faces.

"Well, I'm not Snape, thankfully, but I like what I see very much.  Need some help with that sore wand-arm?" said a tall lean wizard with short, thick, choppy black hair.  He had a roguish, just-got-out-of-bed look to him, and was staring appreciatively at Adelaide.

"Sirius," said the other wizard to his companion, "Dumbledore sends us down here to say hello to Adelaide and _that's_ how you greet her?  Very smooth, old friend."

"Sirius?" said Addy, edging a little closer.  "You wouldn't happen to be Sirius Black?"

 "Actually, I would happen to be exactly Sirius Black, and I know just the trick to make that arm feel better.  This is Remus Lupin, the lucky wizard who gets to work with you on your new course," he added, gesturing to his companion, without taking his eyes off her.

Addy broke into a game smile, and said to Remus, "He's a shy one, isn't he?"  He was a handsome wizard with a rugged face and a sweet-sad demeanor. His expression crinkled with delight as he turned to Sirius and said, "Looks like she's got your number." 

 "Thank you so much for coming here to help me, Remus" continued Adelaide, beaming warmly as she approached the wizard, her hand outstretched.  "I've only just now finished getting the room in order.  I don't know how I could ever be ready for the start of the term without you."

Remus shook her hand, smiled back, and said, "It's my pleasure, really.  I loved teaching this course." He paused, looking around the room thoughtfully, then continued, "Dumbledore has informed us of your rather…uh…_unique_ background.  We understand you'll be joining the Order of the Phoenix.  Welcome—we can use all the help we can get."

They were still gripping one another's hands and seemed to be mentally taking stock of each other, when Sirius let out a most obvious cough.  "Don't I get to say hello, too?"

Addy tried to appear nonchalant, but in reality Sirius Black had been as much of a legend among dark circles as he had everywhere else.  Of course, once Peter Pettigrew had returned to Voldemort, boasting to anyone who would listen about how he had framed Sirius, Adelaide had understood the true story of Black's innocence:  Pettigrew had been the one who had betrayed the Potters and murdered a street full of muggles, while Sirius rotted in Azkaban for it. 

She studied him very seriously with her hands on her hips for a moment, trying to figure out how to flank his armor of charisma. 

 "You served 12 years in Azkaban for Peter Pettigrew's crimes, didn't you?"

The sudden question and her shift into interrogation mode startled him.  "Yes," he replied, slowly, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes.

Addy nodded her head slowly, still staring him down.  Then she said, "So…let's get the rat-faced bastard."  Her face broke out in a grin.

Sirius grinned back and offered his hand, saying "I like the way you think, kid.  Just remember…when the time comes, he's all mine."

Adelaide shook his hand and invited them in, saying, "I was just about to break for some tea.  Please join me, and then, Remus, I'd like to get down to work if that's okay with you."

They gathered around the desk in her office and chatted amiably while they replenished their energy.  Adelaide couldn't help but notice that Remus kept gazing around the room wistfully, and seemed to get lost in memories from time to time.  Finally, she asked, "Remus, I hope I'm not prying, but it seems as if you were rather fond of teaching here.  Why did you stop?"

Remus took a moment to size her up and said, "I was asked to leave."

What followed was an awkward silence, in which Addy decided not to pry any further.  She of all people knew how and when to respect matters that someone wished to keep private. 

Perhaps it was _because_ she didn't press the matter that Remus decided to trust her. He continued, speaking slowly and chose his words very carefully.

 "That's not exactly true.  I left voluntarily, because I didn't want to put Albus in a difficult position…when it got out…that I'm a werewolf.  Lucius Malfoy led the charge for my dismissal, but I don't imagine the other parents required too much convincing.  Can't say that I would if I were them, and it was my son or daughter…" he said sadly, watching for her reaction.  Addy's eyebrows went up—how could this sweet man, this gentle-seeming soul, be a werewolf?

 "But…then…how was it possible for you to teach here at all?  I mean, beyond the first month, without anyone finding out?" she asked.

 "Well, Dumbledore knew all along, as well as a few other friends and acquaintances from my student days here."  He glanced at Sirius.  "I used the same old retreat that Dumbledore had arranged for me years ago—the Shrieking Shack on the edge of Hogsmeade—and Professor Snape created a tonic that helped me get through the full moon with a minimum of trauma.  He's quite a genius with potions, you know...a phenomenon actually.  I couldn't have done it without him."

Adelaide took it all in, and they sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes.  Finally, she started to chuckle.  Although she tried to stop, her giggles became more and more irrepressible.

 "What's so funny?" said Sirius.

Laughing harder, she said looked at each of them and said, "Don't we make a fine bunch:  A werewolf, a Death Eater, and a convicted mass murderer." Then, laughing so hard she could barely get the words out, she added, "And we're suh…suh…supposed to b…be the g…g..good guys!"

Remus looked at her in shocked uncertainty for a moment, as Addy laughed so hard that she snorted through her nose and nearly fell off her chair.  Sirius, on the other hand, lost his composure immediately, thumped the table and threw back his head as he let out a thunderous whoop of mirth that filled the room.  This seemed to impel Addy to even greater heights of hysteria.  Finally, Remus could no longer resist the infectious laughter, and he felt a smile creep across his face against his will.  The smile soon grew to a chuckle, and then to a full-blown roar of a laugh.  The three of them sat like that for the next several minutes, trying in vain to collect themselves.  Every time one or two would start to get a grip, another one would get them all going again.

Tears were streaming down Adelaide's cheeks, and her face and gut ached from laughing.  Yet she couldn't remember when she'd ever felt so happy, or so relaxed!  The laughter was cathartic, not only for her but, she suspected, for her new friends as well.  Not one of them had had an easy go of things, and the real work was just about to begin. The plain fact was that they all desperately needed a good laugh.

Just then, as the three new comrades sat in various states of disarray, wiping tears off their cheeks and trying to pull themselves together, Adelaide's mentor actually did decide to stop in to see how she was doing.

The door to the classroom was ajar and he heard noises coming from inside her office, whose door was also open.  Looking inside, he saw her sitting around the desk with two of his least favorite people in the world.  The three of them already looked like old friends, slapping each other and whooping it up over some private, inside joke.  

An age-old bitterness, born of loneliness, shyness, and insecurity, started to course through Severus' veins.  Once again, he was odd man out.  Once again, he had missed out on the merriment.  His head started to swim with visions of history repeating itself.  A voice in his head said, 'And to think that you had harbored hopes…'

Addy was facing the doorway and so was the first to see him.  She looked up at him with a warm, honest, dazzling smile.  Remus' tribute to Snape had not been lost on her—she had always found genius compelling.  

Severus couldn't help but notice how stunning she looked.  Her curls were still held up by her wand so that they framed her face and exposed her long, slender neck.  Her cheeks were flushed and she was aglow—was that perspiration, relaxation, or something else?

Her loveliness only made him more sad, as he stood there convincing himself that he had lost yet another companion—perhaps his last hope for someone who could truly understand him--to Black and Lupin.  A poisonous, familiar, slithering voice in his head advised him that they were, indeed, laughing at him.  And that got Snape furious.  He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to come up with the words that would bite, sting, wound.  In short order, he found them.

In a low, slow voice he said, "How nice that you three have found time for a little tea party, while Voldemort and his followers continue to grow stronger by the minute."  The barely repressed rage and bitterness in Snape's voice froze the laughter like a chill wind.  

He continued, his eyes piercing Adelaide like daggers.  "I had thought you understood the severity of the situation, Adelaide, but now, sadly, I think I may have overestimated your sense of commitment. Or, perhaps your true intentions are becoming more clear now, _Miss Jones_."

At the sound of that name—her _father's_ name—Addy's blood first ran cold, and then began to boil.  Every muscle in her body tensed up, as she slowly scraped her chair along the floor and stood up.

To be continued… 


	9. Chapter 9: Fireworks

Chap 9: Fireworks

Though her hands were clenched in trembling fists of rage, Adelaide managed to keep her voice low and steady when she said, "Remus, Sirius, would you kindly excuse Professor Snape and me.  We have some issues to discuss."  Her eyes hadn't yet left Snape's. 

They stood up, but Remus said, "Are you sure you wouldn't –"

She shot him a look that said, "Get out NOW."

Sirius put a hand on his friend's back and started to usher him towards the door.  He had a feeling that this witch could take care of herself, but he said over his shoulder to her, "If you need anything, just holler."  As he passed Snape, Sirius gave him a look that said, 'Anyone who messes with a friend of mine might as well be messing with me.'  Remus turned to give Adelaide one last glance of reassurance before they disappeared out the office door.

Adelaide walked to the door and closed it quietly.  Snape stood rooted where he was, taut with anticipation.  Adelaide turned around to face him.

 "MY     NAME      IS      ADELAIDE      MAYHEM!" she roared.  "Surely, Voldemort's little potions genius can manage to remember a simple name, can't he?"  She spat out the words as if they were venom, and he her prey.

Her explosion took him by surprise, but he recovered in an instant.  "I just want to make sure I've got the name _right_, before I commit it to memory," he sneered back.  "It remains to be seen whether you _are a Mayhem, or a Jones sent here to cause it!"_

 "YOU…you of ALL people should know what it's like to need a fresh start…to forget the past!  How long will you continue to rub my face in it?"

 "Until you have proven yourself!"

 "Proven myself?!?!" she shrieked.  "Dumbledore has accepted me, MacGonagall has welcomed me, Black and Lupin, whom I've known all of an hour, are willing to give me a chance!  Even the damn BIRD can tell that I'm for real!  Please tell me--what exactly will it take to prove myself to the High and Mighty Severus Snape?  How do I get YOU to forgive my past?  Or," she added slyly, "are we still waiting for you to forgive your own first???"

That was it.  Addy had hit the bull's eye.

 "THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME!" thundered Snape.

 "Oh, isn't it?!?"

 "You think you can waltz in here, change your name, and the past is magically erased?  It doesn't work like that, _Miss Mayhem_." He practically hissed her name.  "There is no magic trick in the world—light or dark—that can do that!"

 "Do you REALLY think that I need reminding of my past?  You know full well that I carry the scars of it inside and out, day in and day out, just as you do!  Tell me, do YOU need any reminders of YOUR past???"

 "Once again, this isn't about ME!  And since when are my "needs" any concern of yours?!"

 "When YOUR needs contribute to MY misery, they become very much my concern!  Besides, I thought you and I might be friends.  You've heard of friends, haven't you?  Or perhaps you've read about them in a book?  People who care about one another, help each other through hard times, _know _each other.  HA!  THAT, perhaps, was my BIGGEST delusion!!!"

The storm raged on like that for over an hour.  They screamed, they shouted, they bellowed; they flailed their arms, they faced off and circled one another like animals, they smashed things against the walls.  Each had hit his or her mark more than once, each had been wounded by the other's words.

When their collective tantrum had finally run its course, when they had run out of insults and shouted themselves hoarse, they collapsed in exhaustion onto a leather couch in a corner of the office.  Addy buried her head in her hands. Silence reigned for a few moments as they caught their breath.

Snape was bewildered.  He had always been able to keep others at a distanc, to scare them off with a fearsome brew of intimidation, sarcasm, a touch of cruelty, and, when all else failed, sheer volume.  Yet here was someone who'd been able to match him barb for barb, wound for wound.  She wanted answers and she wasn't backing down.  Not only that, she had also managed to figure out what was really fueling his rage.  And, in spite of all that, she had wanted to be his friend.

Meanwhile, over in her corner of the couch, all of Addy's anger had drained out of her.  What was left was a feeling of sheer hopelessness.  A good deal of the noise she had been making was due to the fact that Snape had put voice to her deepest fears—that there really was no hope of erasing the past, that she could never depart from the marked life that seemed to be her destiny.  She had been hollering at to him, trying to convince herself.  She stared out the window, lost in despair.  

She was sitting there, contemplating her resignation and what would happen to her afterwards, when Snape's voice broke the silence gently.  "We can't go on like this.  We're supposed to be working _together_.  I'm supposed to be your bloody mentor, for Merlin's sake."

"I guess…" she said quietly, shaking her head, "I guess…I just thought…that maybe I could change things…start over, make a new life.  I don't know.  You're right.  It was stupid."

 "No it wasn't," came the soft reply from the wizard sitting next to her, his thumb and forefinger cradling the bridge between his eyes.

Addy clicked her tongue in exasperation and said "Listen to what I'm saying, Snape.  I'm _agreeing_ with you.  The argument is over.  _You_ _win_.  You were right all along."

 "No," he replied, in a whisper that was barely audible, yet filled with urgency.  "I _can't _be right.  Not about this."

He took his hand away from his face and his eyes met hers.  What she saw astounded Addy.  Snape's expression—a look of utter misery and raw need—told her that he really _didn't_ want to be right…that, in fact, he desperately needed to be_ wrong_.   He needed the promise of a new life, one that transcended the sins of his past, every bit as much as she did. He needed hope too.

More silence followed, in which Adelaide studied him carefully and thought hard, trying to figure something out.  Finally, she asked him, "Have you given up?"  
Snape averted his gaze, saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."  She didn't really want to say the "H" word out loud.

Without looking at her, he said, " Have I given up?  Maybe.  I don't know.  I think so."

Birds chirped happily outside as a somber hush once again fell on the room.  

Finally, Adelaide said, "Listen, I can't fight Voldemort, my father, my past, and YOU all at the same time.  I'm strong, but not that strong.  So I want to make a deal with you."

Snape looked back at her.  Adelaide's face was a study in anguish, her eyes pleading with him.  She said, "I need you to give me a chance…a REAL chance.  Stop throwing the past in my face.  Open yourself up to the possibility of…of…me…" she trailed off.

Snape cut in, but this time his sarcasm was mild.  "Usually," he teased, "a deal involves something for _each_ party.  What's in it for me?"

She hesitated, anxious about continuing.  Finally she said, "I won't let you give up.  I'll keep it alive, for both of us.  Whether you know it or not, Snape, you need hope as much as I do."  There.  She had said it.

An indignant mask quickly occupied his face, and Adelaide braced herself for the impact.  But then, his features softened, his shoulders slumped a bit.  It looked as though that old internal argument he'd been having with himself had finally run out of steam.  The only problem was, Adelaide wasn't sure which side had won.

Even more silence.  And finally, Snape's whispered reply:

 "Deal."

Addy tentatively stretched her arm across the length of the couch and held out her hand.  Snape shook it firmly, professionally.  Then, he impulsively leaned over and reached out with his other hand as well, covering hers with both of his. He hadn't even been aware of what he was doing until after he had done it.  

Addy then placed her free hand over both of his and slid closer to him, so they could sit that way comfortably, which they did for a while, listening to the birds.

 "One more thing," said Adelaide, as she rested her head on his shoulder.  "Don't ever call me by that name again."

To be continued…(and heated up)…


	10. Chapter 10: So Close

Chapter 10: So Close

  
Addy and Snape sat there like that for a while, just feeling kind of blue and thoughtful together. 

Snape closed his eyes and granted himself a rare interlude of peace. He figured he must be dreaming—probably Addy had thrown something at him during their fight, hit him in the head, and now he was out cold. How else could this magnificent creature be content to be so near to him? Her hands felt so tiny in his, her curls brushed so softly against his face. He wanted to stroke the tops of her fingers with his, but dared not move, lest he wake himself up. So he sat perfectly still and breathed in her freshness, waiting for cold reality to set in when he came to. 

In the meantime, Addy couldn't deny it: she _liked_ the way her hands felt wrapped up with his. It was a safe feeling, the irony of which was not lost on her, since just minutes ago they were ready to bite each other's heads off. She noticed the roughness of his palms, the powerful substance of his body as she leaned against it, the electrifying masculinity of his scent… 

And then she became conscious of the effect his closeness was having on her. She felt wholly alive, aware of the fragility and power of each passing moment, extremely present. Unsure of how long this lovely détente would last, she let the pleasures of these new sensations envelope and invigorate her. Something stirred inside…a great desire to have him nearer, closer, deeper…to drink him in…to--

'_ADELAIDE!_' shouted a Voice in her head. '_What are you thinking??? You have work to do! Besides, he hates you, remember? You've merely exhausted him for the time being with your incessant, stubborn screeching, but any moment now he'll remember who you are_.'

'Oh, shut up,' she said to herself. 'If it's only to last a moment, then let me enjoy it in peace, will you?' She simply couldn't remember the last time she'd just rested against someone and listened to the sounds around her: the birds, the breeze, the ticking of the clock…

The clock!

Addy's eyes flashed open and her body tensed. Sensing the change, Snape followed her gaze to the very large clock on the wall of her office. It had 48 markings around its perimeter and three hands. At the end of the longest hand, a miniature globe spun slowly on its tilted axis as it made its way around the clock. Another hand had a tiny replica of the Hogwarts Express—that hand sat stationary now, and wouldn't start moving until the students boarded the train at Platform 9 ¾ at 11:00 am the following day. The third hand had a little boat at the end of it. When the first years began their trip across the lake, that hand would start its journey around the clock, marking their approach right up to the start of the Sorting Feast.

It took Addy a minute to process what the clock was telling her. When she realized it, she gasped in alarm. There were only twenty-nine hours between now and the official start of the term, and she wasn't anywhere near being ready! 

She had made a promise to Dumbledore—the first thing he'd asked of her was to be prepared for the start of the term. He'd even brought someone in to help her with the task. That great wizard had been willing to take a chance on her, to go out on a limb for her, and she was about to repay him by failing in her very first assignment.

Adelaide was furious with herself. She hated being unprepared—it was one of the worst feelings she knew. It reeked of inadequacy…of disappointment. She'd grown up in a world where presumptions, calculations, and maneuvers were a part of daily life, and being prepared was a vital skill, if one wanted to stay alive and out of trouble. 

She knew she'd let her guard down—she'd allowed herself to relax today for nearly TWO WHOLE HOURS and enjoy her newfound feelings of freedom and independence, when in fact, relaxation and enjoyment were the last things she felt she deserved. As a result, the simple passing of time—the most predictable thing in the world!--had caught her off-guard, and the thought made her sick. She ought to have remembered how lucky she was to have this chance—just to be here! She railed inwardly at herself, and promised the Voice that she would never do it again. 

Fuming at herself, she blurted out, "What am I doing?" Then she turned to Snape with anger and apprehension in her eyes and said, "You've got to go."

Perhaps it was a Death Eater trait—the blunt insensitivity and reflexive way she resorted to suspicion. She held herself fully responsible for her lapse in judgment, yet couldn't help but think that if HE hadn't been there wasting her time with petty arguing… And the closeness of him—how it had been so intoxicating, so tempting…

At any rate, what she had really _meant _was, "What am I doing _sitting around like this when I've got work to do and a promise to keep_? You've got to go_ because my feelings for you are distracting me._"

But that's not what she said. 

And what he _heard_ was: "What am I doing _sitting here holding hands with the likes of you_? You've got to go _because you disgust me_."

She jumped up and began pacing around her desk while her stomach did a trampoline act. Her agitation was quite apparent.   She was in her own world.

Snape smiled sadly to himself.  OK, it wasn't a dream, but still, he had known it couldn't last long. A soft little voice at the back of his head was starting to wonder if she hadn't manipulated him all along, just to get him off her back for a while. He would have to ruminate on that further, when he was safe in the solitude of his own chambers.

He stood up, straightened his robes, donned his mask of professional detachment and said, rather sharply, "Pull yourself together, Miss Mayhem. I'll get Lupin down here and you'll continue with your… _preparations_." That last word dripped with spite.

Snape strode to the fireplace, threw in a pinch of the powder sitting in a bowl on the mantle, and growled into it, "Lupin, get in here."

Remus swirled instantly into view in the fireplace and stepped out of it, a look of concern across his face. 

"Snape…what's—"

"You two need to get to work," he said sternly. "And might I suggest that you cut out the frivolity, since it has just dawned on Adelaide that she has merely 29 hours—no…," he said with an exaggerated look at the clock, "make that 28 hours and 57 minutes—until her students arrive, expecting a fully prepared professor. As you both know," he added, with a stern look from hooded eyes, "the Defense Against the Dark Arts course has never been as crucial as it is now." 

Remus looked over at Addy, who was still pacing and clearly in the beginning stages of a panic attack. She saw Snape turn and start to walk towards her, then stop himself. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Then he said, "Good day, Miss Mayhem." Before she could answer, he walked out the office door without a look back, all long strides and swirling robes, and seconds later she heard the outer door to her classroom slam.

Remus put a comforting arm around Adelaide and walked her out into the classroom. "Don't worry," he said with a smile, "we'll pull this off if it takes all night."

"All night?!" she gasped, . "We have a meeting of the Order tonight, don't we? And then I'm supposed to work on strategy with Snape afterwards! Oh, this is impossible! I'm sorry, Remus, you've wasted your time coming down here. This simply is not possible…what am I going to tell Dumbledore?"  

She was really starting to babble and gnaw at her fingernails, so he grabbed her by both shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "We're going to do this," he said with utmost seriousness. "I don't need to sleep tonight if you don't. So we'll work until dinner, go to the meeting, then meet back here after your strategy session with Snape. And by the time the students arrive tomorrow, you'll be ready."

Addy still looked doubtful, so he added in all honesty, "Besides, all the teachers are in a panic. They've procrastinated all summer, and now they're all scrambling to get ready for the students. Well, probably not Snape, but everyone else. Trust me—you've been stuck in this room all day, but I've been out there—the whole castle is in chaos."

That made her grin a bit, and he could tell she was calming down.  The sight of her smile filled his heart, so he added with a wink, "Sirius will help us. He owes me one, and besides, I don't think it will take too much persuading to get him down here, do you?" 

At that, her breathing steadied, her shoulders loosened,  and she gave an appreciative little laugh.  Remus felt his heart bubble over. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. And then, "OK."

It wasn't like her to panic. She'd stood up to Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy, her father, and even Voldemort himself. Perhaps it was the thought of a room full of boisterous, hormonal, teenage wizards, all looking to her for instruction and guidance. Yet she couldn't help but wonder--what _had_ Snape done to her???

Remus was true to his word. He rolled up the sleeves of his robe and worked like a man possessed, as the blazing sun arced across the sky and the hot day turned to a breezy dusk.

It was nearly six o'clock and they had made phenomenal progress. Addy had made it clear that she wanted to incorporate dueling lessons into the class starting with the 4th years, so they were poring over the lesson plans trying to figure out how they could fit it into the schedule. Remus looked up at the clock and said, "You'd better put your robes back on and go freshen up, or we'll be late for dinner."

"Oh, do we have to go? We're doing so well, and besides I don't really –" 

He looked at her questioningly.

"Can't we just have the house elves bring us something to eat here?"

Remus shook his head. As much as he would have enjoyed a private dinner-for-two here in Addy's classroom, he said, "Dumbledore insists that we all eat together."

She tried to change the subject by proposing that they move the Grindylow class from the third year to the second, but he would have none of it.

"You're going to dinner if I have to carry you there. Now, do you want to put your school robes back on, or do you want to go like that?"

She rubbed her face with both hands, sighed, and stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his out right back. Then she got up and headed back into her office to get her robes and splash some cool water on her face and neck from the basin at the back of the room. 

When she re-emerged, clothed in her shimmery purple robes, he saw that she had taken the wand out of her hair, and it now swirled around her face and down her back in chaotic patterns of randomness. He held the door for her out into the corridor and as she passed, his ultra-sensitive olfactory nerve picked up the faintest whisper of jasmine. They walked to dinner arm in arm, as the sun slanted low through the windows of the castle.

To be continued…

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter—it was a tough one. I had two completely different versions of it written, then after choosing one, decided to scrap the whole middle section and re-write it. Many thanks to all of you who've reviewed so far. Stay tuned…

!! 


	11. Chapter 11: Strings of Tension

Chapter 11: Strings of Tension

  
Like bird on a wire,  
Like a drunk in a midnight choir,  
I have tried…in my way…to be free.  
--Leonard Cohen

The world is all gates, all opportunities,   
strings of tension waiting to be struck.  
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Addy was relieved to have Remus as a guide through the castle, since she had no idea how to find her way around and was beginning to wonder if she ever would.

As they wended their way through the corridors to the Great Dining Hall, she saw that he hadn't been fibbing, or even exaggerating, when he'd said that the castle was in chaos. House elves scrambled to and fro with supplies, setting up the House dormitories and Common Rooms, scouring floors, shining up statues and banisters…anything they could get their rags on, really. Even the portraits bustled as their occupants tried to tidy up for the Big Day tomorrow. In one corner, a knight of armor was clanking away with a cloth and a tin of iron polish, and in another, a stone gargoyle discreetly clipped and buffed his toenails.

Many of the classrooms were empty—their occupants already on their way to dinner—but as they walked past, Addy could see that they weren't in much better shape than her own. It seemed as if at least half the castle would be up late tonight preparing for the new term. Inside the Charms classroom, Professor Flitwick was standing on a desk, barely visible behind piles of textbooks that he was frantically trying to sort.

Remus called to him, "Professor…do you need any help with those books?"

Flitwick looked up distractedly. "What? Oh no, Remus. Thank you, thank you. Good to see you again." he waved at them absent-mindedly. Then, noticing Adelaide, he said, "Oh, hello dear. Lovely to have you aboard."

"Which one is he, again?" Addy whispered to Remus.

"Flitwick," he whispered back, out of the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick," she called with a wave and a smile, wondering for the hundredth time what she'd do without Remus' help. 

"OK, Professor, but you'd better hurry or you'll be late for Dinner," Remus said. 

"Yes, yes…" came the response from inside the room, so the two companions walked on.

The staircases were in rare form, and it took twice as long as usual to navigate them. Adelaide remembered Dumbledore's comment about how they were warming up for the students, but she thought it seemed more like they were in training for the Staircase Olympics. Adding to the clamor were Filch and Mrs. Norris running up and down as they chased the ever-elusive Peeves. 

The sight of Addy and Remus together was more than Peeves could resist, so he floated over to them, making rude sounds. 

"I see Professor "Loopy" has found himself a tasty little bone to gnaw on. Mmmmm, yes, tasty indeed. Yummy yum…save a bit for me, will you?"

They did the wisest thing and ignored him, but he continued to carry on in that vein until, mercifully, the Bloody Baron showed up to shoo him away. 

"A thousand pardons, my Lady," said the ghost, bowing, before taking off down the hallway after Peeves, who was literally bouncing off the walls. 

They ran into Sirius and Madam Hooch animatedly discussing broom models in the large entranceway, just outside the door to the Dining Hall. Sirius gave Remus a raised eyebrow when he saw him arm in arm with Addy, and Remus shot him a look back, but Addy didn't notice. She was too busy peering inside the Hall to see if Snape was already there. He was. Along with Dumbledore, MacGonagall, and about half of the staff, he was seated at an enormous round table in the middle of the room, a sour look upon his face. 

The four of them—Remus, Addy, Sirius and Hooch—entered the Dining Hall together, just as the remaining staff members came dashing in. In the scramble of greetings and seatings, she ended up right in between Snape and Lupin. 

Snape's close proximity had the same effect on her as it had earlier in the day. Something about him was screwing with her normal emotional navigational systems—in other words, something about Snape threw off her intellectual sonar, and had her flying on instinct. This meant she could either soar, or crash. 

She found herself growing increasingly agitated throughout the meal. He had apparently bathed and shaved before dinner, and a melange of earthy fragrances wafted continuously in her direction, awakening deep, primeval, inner springs of desire. 

She picked at her food and tried not to steal glances at him. From the corner of her eye, she could see his plate, which appeared untouched. Every now and then she would catch a glimpse of his hand, or their elbows would bump, and each time she felt her heart beat oddly.

She was furious at this effect he was having on her, and her mood grew darker as the minutes ticked by and she struggled with herself for mastery over her emotions. '_Stop it_,' she scolded herself. '_You're acting like a schoolgirl_!' Her brain fought valiantly for command, but her heart…and other organs…suddenly seemed to have a mutinous mind of their own. She was used to having things under control, always on guard, and found herself wrestling in vain to subdue the commotion within her as she shifted in her seat.

Her thoughts raced to their afternoon encounter in her office, and she found herself straining to remember every moment of him, every scent, every detail of his appearance and movements. Her hands started to sweat when she recalled how they had felt tangled up in his, how his silky hair had brushed her face when she'd leaned against him. She remembered how close her face had been to his neck, almost close enough to taste him…

It was as though their brawl had been a kind of prelude—a passionate dance, or musical piece, that had been cut short just as it started to build, leaving the tension unbearably unresolved. '_What was it that had caused him to leave so abruptly_?' she wondered. 

And then she remembered—or rather heard for the first time—the harsh words that had come out of her mouth, which had chased him out of her office. _What must he think_? 

Conversation had been strained throughout dinner, since everyone appeared to have work on their minds. Dumbledore tried to keep the chatter lively, but even he had trouble lightening the mood. 

Suddenly, she became aware that everyone around the table was looking at her curiously…everyone except Snape, that is, who had hardly looked up all evening. Remus gave her a gentle kick under the table. Dumbledore said, "Addy?" 

"Huh?"

Minerva chimed in, "You seem to be lost in your thoughts, Adelaide. The Headmaster has just asked you how the groundwork for your class is going."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yes. Fine. Thanks." She prayed that she did not look as flustered as she felt, and dared not glance over at Snape. Looking down at her plate, she added hastily, "Remus has been an invaluable help." She _thought _she heard an almost inaudible snort from Snape's direction. Then again, it could have been just the scraping of someone's chair.

With a sigh of resignation, Dumbledore finally gave in just as dessert appeared on their plate, and said that anyone who needed to get back to work could be excused. Almost all the professors got up and left with hasty good-byes, with the exception of the members of the Order. Their meeting was to begin immediately following dinner. 

Addy became aware of how eager she was for the day to get around to her strategy session with Snape…just to have the chance to be alone with him again. She couldn't wait to see the flash of hope and excitement in his eyes when she told him all that she knew of Voldemort's plans. And she promised herself that she would apologize for having been so rude and callous to him earlier. She couldn't, of course, tell him the real reasons for her abruptness, but she would think of something to say. She was glad for the early start of the meeting of the Order, because it meant that she would get to be alone with him again that much sooner. 

'_Stop it, stop it, stop it!_' nagged the Voice. '_You must focus, Adelaide, or you will ruin everything…again_!'

Just then, Hagrid burst through the door of the Dining Hall. Addy had never seen such a large man. She knew that Voldemort had been trying to establish relations with the last of the Giant race that lived in the hills, yet she had never actually witnessed one. 

Hagrid had been, perhaps, the busiest of them all, since he was not only responsible for his Care of Magical Creatures class, but for the entire Hogwarts grounds as well. Just getting the Quidditch pitch ready for the start of practice had taken nearly a month of the summer. He apologized profusely for missing dinner, and they all stood up to make their way to Dumbledore's office. Snape walked ahead of the group, quietly discussing something with the Headmaster.

Sirius had paid Hagrid a visit on the grounds earlier in the day to offer his help, and had told Hagrid all about Adelaide. As they walked, he sidled up to introduce her to the half-giant, and Addy had to crane her neck way back to look at him. Hagrid, who had an innate distrust of all things associated with Voldemort, wasn't sure how he felt about another former Death Eater in their group, despite the fact that he had grown to trust and respect Snape immensely, and would never outwardly question Dumbledore's judgment. Yet he was essentially a man who relied more on instinct than reason, and when she looked up at him with her genuine, open smile, his feelings toward her softened.

"Er, I unerstand that Dumbledore…er…sorta found you himself," he said.

"Yes, sort of. It's because of his kindness that I'm here. He was willing to give me a second chance," she replied.

Then they both said in unison: "He's a great wizard, Dumbldeore." And Hagrid was instantly won over. 

The meeting took place in a secret chamber, accessed through a door hidden by a portrait hanging on one of the walls of the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore uttered the password—"Tailfeather Taffy"—and stood aside as the portrait swung open and the group ushered through, one by one, including Fawkes. The room was plain except for some maps on the wall, and a large round wooden table with seats for everyone around it. Fawkes perched on the back of Addy's chair, and she fed him some scraps she'd saved from dinner.

The Headmaster began the meeting by explaining Addy's true background to the members who hadn't already heard it. They listened solemnly, eyes wide with amazement and concern. Addy was glad that she hadn't eaten much, since her stomach once again turned at the telling of her story. She hoped this would be the last time she would have to hear or tell it for a while. At one point, she glanced up, to find Snape looking at her. What was that in his eyes— suspicion…or compassion??? When he realized he'd been caught staring, he quickly looked down and began to examine his fingernails in earnest, and didn't look up again for a long time.

There was some discussion about her role as a double agent. Many of the members worried about her safety, and the enormous risk she'd be taking. Addy and Dumbledore argued fervently on her behalf, and while Snape kept silent and did not step up to her defense, Addy was glad that he at least did not voice any of his earlier objections. He seemed to have resigned himself to the fact that she was here to stay.

They were finally able to convince the others that with the information only Addy could provide, they had a chance at thwarting Voldemort's Death Eater attacks and possibly, if they were lucky, break through to his compound. 

Once they were all in agreement, Addy was officially sworn in. The next order of business was a controversial proposition from Dumbledore: he wanted to make Harry Potter a member of the Order. This time, Snape did not remain silent, but rather, argued vociferously against it. At one point, Addy thought that he and Sirius might come to blows over the question. 

Dumbledore insisted that, for reason's understood by nobody including himself, Harry Potter was inextricably tied to Voldemort. He strongly believed that Harry was destined to be a part of Voldemort's ultimate downfall. Finally, the support of the other members outweighed Snape's objections. He sulked into a corner as it was agreed that Harry would be invited to join in a few weeks, after he'd had a chance to settle into his fifth year at Hogwarts.

Hagrid gave an update on the work he and Madame Maxine had done with the giants over the summer. It was slow going, but overall he thought there was a good chance for positive relations with a little more work. Hagrid confirmed that some of the Giants were already on Voldemort's side. Addy was able to offer some information about Voldemort's communications with them, and, with Snape's grudging approval, the three of them arranged a meeting time to discuss how to proceed. 

Dumbldeore then announced that Snape and Addy would be working together on nightly strategy sessions to figure out how they would divide and approach their work within Voldemort's compound, and that they would be giving weekly status reports to the group. Addy smiled when the Headmaster announced that Lupin and Sirius would stay at Hogwarts for a few weeks, to await their "marching orders." She was glad that her new friends would be around for a while. But her mood turned abruptly with their leader's next statement.

Dumbledore turned to her with a kind smile and said, "I realize that you are eager to begin your work with Severus, my dear." 

'_What does he mean by that_?' she wondered to herself. She already knew that he could read her like a book. What had he seen at dinner? '_Stop it, Adelaide, before you make a fool of yourself_!' came the reprimand from the back of her head.

"However," continued Dumbledore, "in light of all the work you have to do to prepare for the start of the term tomorrow, I think you and Severus should postpone your first strategy session, at least until tomorrow night, following the Sorting Feast."

Addy's mouth flew open in protest. She looked furiously over at Lupin, suspecting that he had said something to Dumbledore. Sensing what she was thinking, he subtly threw up his hands and shook his head in response, indicating that he had said nothing. 

"No, Headmaster!" she nearly shouted. When she saw two white, furry eyebrows go up, she realized that she needed to get a grip on herself. Forcing some equanimity into her voice, she continued, "I mean, it's ok. I'm fine. We have it all planned out and everything is on schedule. Besides, I don't think there is a minute to waste. I can handle it. I'm fine." She looked to Snape for support, but he was avoiding her gaze.

"Adelaide," he responded firmly, "your zeal is most appreciated. However, we must remember that our students come first—always—and I want you well-rested for the start of the term. I realize that you have quite a load on your plate. We have waited this long for you…I hardly think that one more day will make such a terrible difference." 

Addy started to protest again, but a glare from Minerva shut her down instantly. Apparently, Dumbledore had made his decision and the case was closed. 

Addy reeled inside from anger and disappointment. She knew it was just one more day, but the turmoil that had building inside her ached for some relief. She turned the question over and over in her head—what had caused Dumbledore to change his mind?—until she was a quivering mess of paranoia.

Dumbledore then called an end to the meeting, and everyone stood up. She saw Snape rush for the door without a word or a glance at anyone. He muttered the password and practically flew out of the room. Adelaide stared after him in confusion. Why hadn't he joined her in protesting the cancellation of their session?

And then…everything clicked into place. It was Snape! That's what he had been whispering about to Dumbledore earlier, as the group had made their way to the Headmaster's office. It had been _his _idea to call off their meeting tonight!

Blind with confusion and need, she hastily excused herself from the group and raced after him, spotting him at the bottom of the spiral staircase. "Snape!" she called as she clambered noisily down the stairs, but he ignored her and quickened his pace. She ran to catch up with him and grabbed his elbow to fling him around, finding herself face to face with a glare brimming over with torment.

"Why?" was all she asked.

"I have work to do," he replied, looking away.

"WE have work to do…together, remember?" she pleaded.

He couldn't tell her that he simply wasn't ready to be alone with her again, so close yet unable to reach out and hold her as he so desired. Just standing here in front of her made him yearn to thrust his fingers into her hair, pull her close and kiss her with all the passion he'd held in check for so many years. He was stalling for time, hoping to get his emotions under control so that he could smother these feelings he had, and to keep her at arm's length, at least until…

No, he couldn't tell her that. So he said simply, "We'll work tomorrow." 

Addy said, "If it's about what I said before…"

He didn't want to think about "before"…he was trying his damnedest to _forget _about it. She was still holding firmly onto his arm, and he desperately needed her to let him go…to let him retreat to the refuge of his seclusion. So he mustered up his most vengeful voice and cut her off with, "In the meantime, I'm sure you'll have a pleasant evening with your newfound friends."

With that, he wrenched his arm away from her and strode off, leaving her staring after him, hurt and rejected. So she shouted out the first stupid, spiteful thing that popped into her head: "Yes, I'm sure we will!" She watched his robes billow out as he turned a corner and disappeared.

Brooding, she turned and headed off in the opposite direction, towards her own classroom, where she threw herself into the work of clearing away the broken pixie cage. She banged the pieces around and broke them violently in half, muttering to herself like a child in the midst of a tantrum. 

By the time Sirius and Remus arrived at her classroom door, Addy was in a Very Bad Mood. The sight of them only reminded her of Snape's parting quip.

"Listen," she said, scowling, "it's very kind of you to offer to help me tonight, but it's really not necessary. I can handle this on my own. Why don't you go see if Hagrid needs some help, or go take the night off in Hogsmeade. There will be plenty of work for everyone in the coming weeks."

Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise, and said lightheartedly, "Nothing doing. We had a date, and Sirius Black never breaks a promise."

When she tried to protest further, he shoved a fireberry tart into her mouth. "Besides, I swiped a bunch of desserts from the kitchens, since you didn't even touch your dinner, and I also got this nice bottle of Willowine from the cellars, and a pot of strong black coffee to get us through the night. So eat your tart and then give me something to do."

Their kindness, friendship, and indomitable humor eventually won her over, and they spent the next few hours eating, joking, and taking orders from Remus. '_Hah_,' Addy thought to herself. '_Snape was right…this _is_ a pleasant evening after all_.' The distraction of work had helped her put things into perspective. She knew he couldn't avoid her forever, and it was only one more day before she'd have her chance alone with him. '_Let's see him try to wiggle out of tomorrow's session_,' she mused with a smile.

Around two in the morning, Sirius stretched and yawned. Addy suggested that they call it a night and they arranged to start up again at nine the next morning, after breakfast. "Ok," said Sirius, "but it won't be pretty." He gave her a hug that lasted just a few seconds too long, and took off down the hall to his temporary chambers.

Addy told Remus that she just wanted to finish assembling and charming the model she'd been working on, which was supposed to demonstrate the sleeping and eating habits of trolls, but was giving her fits of frustration. She sat at her desk struggling with the pieces.

"OK," he said. "I'll finish transferring these notes while you do that—they're a mess. I want to make sure that you really do turn in at some point tonight. We're ahead of schedule, and besides, remember what Dumbledore said about getting some rest."

A half an hour later he realized that the room had grown remarkably silent, and he looked up from his work to see Addy, fast asleep at her desk, the model in pieces before her. He chuckled to himself and went over to where she sat, gazing down at her over her shoulder.

"Addy," he said softly. She stirred, turning her head so he could see her in profile. Her hair had fallen away to the side and he saw the most peaceful smile playing across her lips. Her robe had also shifted, exposing the graceful curve of her shoulder. 

He just stood and watched her sleep for a few more minutes. Merlin's beard!--she was enchanting. 

His eyes followed the curve of her long eyelashes, the line of her cheekbone, and the soft whisps of hair just behind her delicate ears. How he longed for her to feel his touch, to know how he hadn't stopped thinking of her all day…the spark he'd felt when they'd first shook hands…how she made him light up inside every time he saw her smile…how happy it made him to make her happy. 

"Addy," he said again, softly. This time, she didn't stir. She seemed to be in quite a deep sleep, so he reached out a tentative finger and stroked the sensitive spot at her hairline, ever so gently, watching intently for the faintest sign of movement. 

This close, he could once again breath in her sweet jasmine scent. A powerful yearning was welling up inside of him. He continued to lightly stroke the back of her neck, trailing his fingers in little patterns along her pale skin. His face had inched closer to hers, and when he softly blew on her neck, she uttered a deep, slow "mmmmmmm" that got his heart racing. He felt a bead of sweat make its way down his back.

Remus summoned his courage, bent down, and let his lips lightly graze over her, his hot breath tracing the patterns he'd made earlier. His breath was coming hard and fast now, but he fought to tame his fervor so as not to wake her. 

When he kissed her again, he reached out the tip of his tongue to gently tickle the taut flesh behind her ear. He ran his tongue over his own lips, savoring the salty sweetness of her. Then he heard the music of her sigh, and she murmered something unintelligible. Fearing she might be wakening, he looked down at her face. He saw that she was still smiling and seemed to be asleep, although she had parted her mouth. He watched the movement of her soft lips as she whispered something again, although he still couldn't make out the word.

As he bent down closer to hear what she was saying, he saw a silvery line of something wet fall upon her exposed shoulder. He backed away a bit, wondering what it was and where it had come from.

And in the next second, Addy's eyes flew open. She gripped the desk, and screamed in terror and agony, as three-inch razor sharp claws—_his claws_—buried themselves at the back of her neck, gouging deep, bloody trenches down the full length of her spine. 

  
Remus woke with a start…the sound of her scream echoing in his ears. Addy heard him wake and chuckled, saying, "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you." Then she looked up at him from across the room. She couldn't see his face, but it was apparent that he was trembling.

"Remus?" she said, concerned. "Are you okay?"

He turned a pale, sweat-coated face to her. "What day is it?" he asked frantically.

"It's August 31st…well, September first now, of course," she said glancing out the window at the dark night. "The first day of the term, remember?" she said with an uncertain smile, trying to calm him down.

She got up to go to him, to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He pushed her away violently and stumbled to the water closet, locking the door behind him. The vision of her pale skin shredding away at his touch still danced in front of his eyes.

"Remus!" she called from behind the closed door. "Remus, what's wrong???"

He splashed cool water on his face and leaned on the basin, willing his heartbeat to slow down. Looking up at his reflection, he ran a shaky hand across his face, comforted by the feel of his skin—human skin—and the bristle of his five-o-clock shadow.

He stared at himself in the mirror and said "You're not that thing. You are _not_ that thing."

He splashed more water on his face as his hands steadied themselves and his pulse resumed a normal tempo. Addy shouted and pounded on the door. 

"It's ok! I'm ok!" he called to her.

He looked up again at the tired wizard staring back at him from the mirror. 

"You are NOT that thing."

To be continued…


	12. Chapter 12: French Farce and Familiar F...

Author's Note: My apologies for the long wait between chapters. It's been a busy month. Thank you for all your reviews and encouragement. Enjoy…

Chapter 12: French Farce and Familiar Faces

Go ahead, push your luck  
Find out how much love the world can hold  
Once upon a time I had control  
And reined my soul in tight  
  
Well the whole truth  
Is like the story of a wave unfurled  
But I held the evil of the world  
So I stopped the tide  
Froze it up from inside  
  
And it felt like a winter machine   
That you go through and then  
You catch your breath and winter starts again  
And everyone else is spring bound  
  
And when I chose to live  
There was no joy, it's just a line I crossed  
I wasn't worth the pain my death would cost  
So I was not lost or found…

--Part 1 of "After All," 

a song by Dar Williams  


For most of the staff, the next day—September first—flew by, because there was so much work to do before the students arrived at 6:00 pm. For Adelaide Mayhem, however, the hours dragged on, because she knew that at the end of the day, when the Sorting Feast was over, she would get to have her first strategy session with Snape.

She, Remus and Sirius had each grabbed a quick breakfast in the Dining Hall and had met up in her classroom at 9 am, as promised. Remus seemed on edge all day, particularly whenever Addy got near him. Sirius was groggy and quiet, and Addy was distracted, checking the clock every 2 minutes, as the miniature Hogwarts express made its way around the perimeter. At times, she could swear it was going backwards. They worked in silence for the most part.

At around 2pm, with four hours to spare, they were done. Relieved, Addy smiled and hugged them with deep, heartfelt gratitude. She thought she felt Remus recoil when she hugged him, but she waved the thought away, attributing it to nerves. 

"I really can't thank you enough. I will have to figure out some way to repay you both for this," she said. Sirius was too tired to comment, so he let that one go by. 

Remus had slept fitfully and hadn't been feeling well all day, so he went to take a nap. Sirius was heading into Hogsmeade with Hagrid. They were going to pick up a few supplies in town, before greeting the students at the platform. He wanted to be there—in the form of Padfoot, at least--to say hello to his Godson, Harry.

While she worked, Addy's mind had been plotting strategy, although not the kind designed to overthrow Voldemort. While not exactly spoiled, she had grown up surrounded by ambitious Death Eaters, who had instilled in her the belief that no desire was unattainable, no goal too lofty. She had been taught that if she wanted something, she should go out and get it. 

And right now, what she wanted was Snape.

She didn't understand it and couldn't explain it. She simply found him magnetic, found herself drawn to him, and had a persistent desire to know more of him. Lots more. 

So she had set about figuring out how to get through to him. She knew that pleading and needing and making a pest of herself was not the way to do it. Instead, she came to the conclusion that a little indifference, a little chase, was quite possibly what was needed. 

Yes--she would utterly ignore him for the rest of the day, avoid him in fact. This had the added benefit of denying him any more chances to call off the evening's session. So despite her great hunger to see him, she resolved not to pay him any notice until their after-dinner meeting. 

Instead, she used the time to better acquaint herself with the castle and the grounds, and refocus her energy on the tasks at hand. Walking always helped her think, and with the arrival of the new month, the intense heat had broken, giving way to a glorious, sparkling day that was just starting to feel more like Autumn and less like Summer. 

She gave herself a long tour, strolling from the lake, to the Forbidden Forest, back around Hagrid's hut and out to the Quidditch pitch. Then she made her way back up to the castle. Desperately needing to orient herself, she started at the main hall and followed a path that encompassed dormitories, offices, classrooms and towers. There were enough side corridors and hidden chambers to keep one exploring for weeks, but her cursory tour would have to suffice for now. And it did, indeed, give her a greater sense of comfort with the place.

As she strolled down a corridor that had classrooms on either side, taking mental notes on which lessons were taught where and by whom, she heard familiar, unseen footsteps heading her way from around the corner ahead. Recognizing them as Snape's aggressive gait, she quickly reviewed her options: casually saunter past him seeming lost in thought, or duck into the classroom just to her left. Telling herself that the casual saunter seemed a little advanced for her first move, she chose the practical—some would say cowardly—route, and ducked. 

She hid in the empty classroom, her back pressed against the door, listening breathlessly for his footsteps to pass. For a moment she worried that she hadn't been quick enough and that he'd caught a glimpse of the tail end of her robes. But he walked by without hesitation. Addy cracked open the door, looked up and down the hall, heaved a sigh of relief and congratulated herself on her first evasive tactic. When she was sure he was clear, she continued on her survey of the castle, feeling quite clever and not the least bit foolish. Well, maybe a tiny bit foolish.

When she was done, she popped into her office for some tea, relishing the waning period of quiet before the student body descended on them. Addy took her new role as teacher as seriously as she did her role as a spy, and felt that she could make a strong contribution to their cause by firmly preparing her students for the dangers they would face in the world outside. So she fussed over her classroom a bit more, adding several more assignments to her course plan. She knew she wasn't going to be popular, but she was there to sharpen their minds and skills, not to make friends. When she was finally satisfied, she sat down to write an outline of all the information she needed to cover with Snape later that night, happily humming to herself. 

As soon as she opened her ink jar, her sleeve fell into it, staining her outer robe. When she stood up, she splattered even more ink down the front. Cursing her own clumsiness, she removed the robe and laid it out on the couch, performing a cleaning spell, before sitting back down again to write. Several minutes later, someone knocked on the door of her office with a single, sharp rap. '_That must be him_,' she thought. '_Who else would knock like _that?'

***********************

Snape had been sitting in his dungeon classroom, wondering what she was up to. He hadn't seen or heard evidence of her all day. By the time he'd arrived at breakfast, she, Remus and Sirius had already eaten and left. All day he sat there, with nothing else to do, drumming his fingers on his desk and staring at the closed door. He expected her to show up at any moment with some question or favor she needed of him, or at least to check in just to make sure they were on for the night, an occasion for which he was ready with his excuse du jour. When the hours passed and she hadn't shown up, he told himself that she must either be goofing off or had gotten herself lost somewhere in the castle and couldn't find her way back to her own classroom. So, with an exasperated sigh and roll of his eyes, he had set out to locate her. He had, after all, promised Dumbledore that he would act as her mentor, and he didn't want to let his Headmaster down.

First he checked her classroom, expecting to find the three cohorts lazing about. The door was closed and no answer came to his knock, so he opened it and poked his head in. Not only were they not there, but the room was immaculate and looked impeccably prepared. The troll model that Addy had finally mastered was impressive, and her board was covered from top to bottom, wall to wall, with notes and diagrams on conjuring a patronus. Each desk was piled high with textbooks and assignments. Snape grinned with relish, imagining how the students would feel when they saw THAT waiting for them.

He then searched all over the castle, with still no sign of her. Puzzled, he headed back to his dungeons, passing her classroom once more, and noticed that the door was now ajar. He looked inside, only to find the room empty and silent once again. He was about to leave when he thought he'd heard the faint scratching of quill on paper, and turned back to check her office.

When no reply came to his single rap on the door, he hesitated a moment, his hand toying with the doorknob. Then he turned it, and let himself in.

Her office was also empty, yet he could swear he smelled fresh ink. And there was Addy's outer robe, laid out on the very same couch where they had sat the day before, when some kind of understanding had passed between them.

"Addy?" he called.

******************************

When she'd heard him knock, she froze, hoping he would just go away. Then she saw the doorknob to her office start to turn. Quick as a flash, she'd grabbed her ink jar and quill and had ducked under her desk. She had made up her mind to avoid him, and so avoid him she would.

From her crouched hiding spot, Addy could see Snape through a crack in the wood. She watched him look around her office, saw his face screw up as though he recognized the scent of something. Then she saw him walk over to the leather couch. '_Damn…my robe_!' she thought, and once again cursed her clumsiness. Hardly daring to breathe, she wondered what he would think if he found her here, hiding under her own desk in her own classroom.

Then she saw him reach out to the couch and pick up a corner of her robe. At first she couldn't tell if he held it scornfully, or tenderly. A moment later, her eyes widened as she saw him lift it to his face, and breathe in its scent—_her_ _scent_!--while the fingertips of his other hand unconsciously caressed the arm of the couch. His back was to her, making it impossible to see his face, and she yearned to switch position so she could see what kind of expression he wore. Suddenly, he gripped the fistful of fabric he held, crumpled it in his hand and threw it violently back down onto the couch.

He called out her name again, this time sounding agitated. 

"Adelaide?"

Addy held her breath. When no answer came, he turned and walked out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him. She waited for a few seconds longer before emerging triumphantly, rubbing her aching knees. 

He had come! He had come looking for her. He could tell himself whatever lies and excuses he needed for why he came, but the important thing was that he had sought her out. '_If all my plans go this well_,' she thought with a dubious laugh, '_we'll have Voldemort in Azkaban by Christmas_.'

*************************************

She waited awhile until the sounds of him had long since disappeared. Then she slipped out of her office and scampered up to her chambers, a ridiculous grin decorating her face. 

With about 45 minutes to get ready, Addy decided to slip into a nice hot bath. The enormous tub in her private bath had been calling her name since she'd arrived. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a relaxing soak. As the room filled with steam, Addy disrobed and her mirror gave her some friendly advice on a fragrant, tension-relieving bubble charm. 

"Thanks," she said to the mirror. "That's a nice touch."

"That's what I'm here for," came the reply from the glass.

She eased her body into the water and let the heat and bubbles and scent do their work. As she soaked, visions of Snape popped persistently into her head. She watched him—over and over in her mind—fingering the fabric of her robe and breathing in her scent. How she wished she'd been inhabiting that robe at the time! She also visualized those long fingers caressing her own arm instead of the arm of the couch. 

As she imagined his touch, she felt her body respond—her breath getting shorter, her nipples getting tight, and an appetite welling up deep and low inside her. She ran her fingers over her face, her neck, her lips, her tongue. Then, groaning as she imagined they were his hands and not her own, she ran them across her breasts, circling her hardened nipples. She already knew the roughness of his fingers, and thought about how they might feel pinching and teasing her. As her hands brushed down her belly, through her triangle of curls down to the soft, waiting spot between her legs, she sucked in her breath, aching for his touch.

She would have liked to stay longer and see where this path led her, but there was the small matter of the Sorting Feast and the official school-year kickoff to attend to. And she would be damned if the she'd let Time catch her off guard again! So she reluctantly withdrew herself from the tub, dried off and got dressed. She did the best she could with her curls and set out.

**************

Addy thought that she was getting pretty well acclimated to the grandeur of Hogwarts, but when she reached the Great Dining Hall, she realized that the castle still had plenty of amazements in store for her. Her mouth agape, she gazed around the room in sheer delight. The beauty and majesty of the vast hall, decked in the four school colors and banners, topped anything she had ever seen.

It was all so different from the dark world in which she'd grown up. There had been riches, of course. Voldemort surrounded himself with excess, indulgences, and perverse luxuries of all kinds. But there was something entirely different about the atmosphere at Hogwarts. It was grand, not grandiose. It exuded hospitality, tradition, warmth, and pride of history. There was a refreshing simplicity in the way the decorations mirrored the natural world outside, right up to the enchanted ceiling through which an otherworldly sunset flared.

As she approached the staff table up the center aisle, she saw that only a few staff members were currently seated: MacGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Dumbledore, and Snape. '_Good_,' she thought. '_Another opportunity to ignore him_." She strode confidently, looking everywhere except at him.

Dumbledore had had a devil of a time trying to decide where to place her at the staff table. He was, of course, aware of the tension between Addy and Snape, but he also knew that she would need Snape's help and guidance. There were also the students to consider, several of whom were children of known Death Eaters, particularly Draco Malfoy. He knew that every nuance of Addy's presence would be dutifully reported back to "The Compound," so it should not appear that Addy and Snape were working too closely together, for Voldemort was a jealous and paranoid creature who feared collusion and loved divisiveness among his followers. It would be crucial that she strike just the right balance in her appearance of loyalty. Snape had mastered it, and Dumbledore hoped that Addy would learn from him. He prayed that this would be a skill they could both permanently retire someday.

So, he was faced with the question: should she be near him, or far from him? After long consideration, he determined that she would learn and gain more from sitting beside him, and the two would simply have to make a periodic show of despising one another for the benefit of their clandestine audience.

That decision now led Adelaide to gracefully situate herself next to Snape, secretly thankful that some of the heady scent of her bubble bath lingered on her skin. He looked quite stately in his fresh black robes emblazoned with the Slytherin crest, the silk-coated buttons of his black coat peeking out at his neck and wrists. Despite her fascination with those buttons and the intrigue of where they led, she immediately turned away from him and towards Professor Sprout, who was seated to her left, and with whom she was quickly engaged in a discussion of healing herbs, both magical and muggle. Yes, Addy was nothing if not disciplined.

Snape couldn't help but overhear and would have liked to join the conversation, since it overlapped greatly with his area of expertise. But he had a strict policy against friendly chatter with the other staff members, particularly at mealtimes. It was too distracting, and when the students were around he needed to be perpetually on guard. This self imposed isolation was simply another one of the many sacrifices to which he had committed himself.

He tried to get Addy's attention to suggest that she follow suit and focus, but she had her back to him and was offering no openings. Addy chatted with Sprout, hoping that Snape was listening, as she was quite an expert on herbs. The rest of the staff gradually arrived and took their places. Poor Remus and Sirius were dining together in the kitchens below, since their presence at the school was top-secret. Addy hoped that Remus was feeling better, and made a mental note to visit him sometime later that evening.

She was in the middle of a fascinating discussion of lotus root with Professor Sprout when she first heard it—a low, far-off rumble, like a herd of many creatures on the move with great purpose. Seconds later, the doors of the Dining Hall flew open, and the room flooded with the exuberant vitality of youth. Wave after wave of students poured in—all colors and shapes and sizes—greeting one another with joyful abandon. As young people were wont to do, they hugged, smiled, fought and cried. They lived a whole life in one minute, as though this singular moment were all that mattered, and tomorrow was a world away. 

This grand display of unfettered emotion took Addy's breath away, yet she struggled to maintain an outward façade of detachment, for she knew that from this point forward, the many eyes of Voldemort would be watching her for any sign of weakness. Snape discreetly checked on her from the corner of his eye, and was grudgingly pleased to see that she had appropriately shifted her composure. 

They saw Draco enter with his thugs, and Addy was dismayed to note that he already had an entourage of sycophants. Draco recognized her and had obviously been informed of her new role as Voldemort's spy. The Jones family had been frequent (if reluctant) dinner guests of the Malfoys, since Lucius was perpetually sucking up to Addy's father, who was Voldemort's closest friend and advisor. Her father couldn't stand Lucius, but Voldemort encouraged Iscarious to gain Malfoy's trust so that they could both keep an eye on the shifty bastard. Addy had known Draco since he'd been born, and had watched as his parents had spoiled and ruined him. She even suspected that at one time, the young boy had had a crush on her.

When their eyes met, Addy gave Draco a sneer-like smile and a slight nod, which she hoped was seen and noted by all. He seemed quite pleased at this recognition, and although it hardly seemed possible, he puffed himself up even more as he and his posse took their seats.

Then Addy turned her attention to the boy everyone was always curious to meet: Harry Potter. She tried to catch casual glimpses of him and his friends. Here he was, this lanky young man with a mop of unruly hair covering the scar which marked the day her life had turned upside down. She could hardly believe that this gentle and charming looking boy was the same figure she'd been taught to regard as evil personified.

Dumbledore waited patiently while the returning students released some of the pent up emotions from the pressure cooker of their teenage psyches, and then gave the signal to MacGonagall to bring in the First Years. The Sorting began and Addy noticed that while Snape clapped politely for each new Slytherin, his eyes scanned the new student intensely, looking for clues as to what _kind_ of Slytherin this child would become, and how he or she should best be handled.

When the First Years were finally sorted, Dumbledore made his usual ominous opening announcements, followed by the traditional welcoming toast. This year, he paraphrased a quote by a famous muggle writer, although he doubted anyone would recognize it as such. Raising his glass, his voice magically amplified, he intoned:

"Here's to aristocracy. Not an aristocracy of power, based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate, and the plucky. It's numbers are to be found in all races and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true wizarding tradition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos. Thousands of them perish in obscurity, a few are great names. They are sensitive for others as well as for themselves, they are considerate, without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness, but the power to endure, and they can take a joke."

Then he took his seat, affecting a mysterious, knowing look, and plunged his fork into the platter of sausages in front of him.

Addy had to suppress her delight at Dumbledore's toast, and again at the gorgeous mountains of food that piled themselves in front of her following the Headmaster's remarks. Although her heart leaped, she mimicked Snape and maintained a look of utter ennui. A fleeting question passed through her mind: did Snape share any of these inner joys and wonders? If she could mask them effectively, perhaps that's what he was doing too?

Just as she was about to take her first bite, the doors were once again flung open, this time by a harried looking Hagrid, who marched a disheveled boy up the center aisle, until they stood directly below Dumbledore. The boy was quaking and there was mud all over his Hogwarts robes. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly as the room went silent. All eyes (including Addy's) were on Hagrid and his charge as Dumbledore arose. Out of the corner of her eye, Addy could detect a look of barely repressed glee on Snape's face, and wondered what it all meant.

Dumbledore lifted a furry eyebrow and peered down through his half-moon spectacles. The poor boy swallowed hard. He was a picture of utter misery, and Addy's heart went out to him in his terror.

Since the boy was clearly unable to speak, Hagrid started the explanation. 

"'Is toad jumped out er the horseless carriage on the way up 'ere," reported Hagrid. "'E jumped out after it, an' I jumped out after 'im. We bin lookin' fer that toad fer nearly a half an hour, sir. Found 'im, though, we did, over by the lake, o' course."

"H-h-h-headmaster, s-s-s-sir," stammered the boy, arousing a chorus of snickers from the Slytherin table. "I was a-f-f-fraid he would starve to death out there on his own. He's not very b-b-bright and he's not good at f-f-finding his own f-f-f-food." 

This inspired outright guffaws from the Slytherins, and a few of the more mean-spirited students from other houses. Addy was utterly charmed by the boy's sweetness and innocence, but knew she had a role to play. So, although she would have liked to go and knock a few Slytherin heads together, she masked a compassionate smile with a look of irritation at this cloying interruption of her meal. That was, of course, exactly how Snape appeared.

"Is Trevor unharmed?" asked Dumbledore. Addy was impressed that he knew the toad's name.

"I think so," said the boy, gently stroking his pet.

"Well then, perhaps the adventure did him some good. Thank you, Hagrid, for your help in finding our audacious amphibian friend, and for escorting him and his owner to dinner. Neville, you must keep a sharper eye on that intrepid toad of yours this year. Now, take a seat, Mr. Longbottom, and get yourself some dinner, before it all disappears."

__

Longbottom!!!

Addy nearly dropped her fork with a clatter at the mention of the name. This was a name she knew, a name she recognized from her youth. She had remembered it all these years partly because she'd found it to be such a strange name when she first heard it, but also because it had been such a strange day. Although it had been nearly 15 years ago—not long before Falling Day—she could remember the occasion as though it were yesterday. The memory sucked her into a different time and place, back to a day when she'd had a different name, and little comprehension of the events that swirled around her.

It had been morning, and she was in the family drawing room, a vast, ornate space full of ancestral relics. Heavy velvet curtains kept the room in perpetual gloom, and it smelled a bit like decaying paper. Yet Addy loved this room…she had played here as a child, sword-fighting with pirates one day, the next riding in to rescue her dolls from cruel witch-burnings.

But it had been a long time since she'd had the luxury for childish games. She'd awakened early to work on an advanced curse her father was trying to teach her. She was almost 18 and a very strong practitioner of Dark Magic—a young Master, some might say—yet this curse had been giving her trouble since she'd started learning it. Her father had supplied her with a cage full of one hundred black beetles on which to practice, yet she was going through them at an alarming pace, with little progress to show for it. Her father had been away on a mission, and was already overdue. Addy knew he'd be terribly disappointed if, upon his return, she had not yet mastered her assignment. She paged through her father's notes, reading them again and again to discern what she was doing wrong.

The curse was Crucio, and it was the most difficult and powerful one her father had taught her to date. She'd learned everything she knew from him, and his pride and approval were essential to her—she craved them more than food or water. 

She knew that her "victims" ought to shudder in spasms of excruciating pain, but that never happened. Instead, she always achieved one of two results—either they would scuttle away unharmed and Addy would have to retrieve them from the far corners of the room, or they would simply die on the spot, in an instant.

She was practicing frantically, trying slight modifications in her inflection and pronunciation.

"CRUcio!" 

"Cruci-OH!" 

"Cruc-EE-oh!"

Yet beetle after beetle inexplicably managed to escape a painful fate. Addy had reached the height of her frustration, when she heard the front door bang open, and her father entered, swearing loudly. 

"Damn Ministry! Those damn bloody Longbottoms! They can very well rot in there for the next hundred years. Serves them right, the bloody fools!"

The last thing Addy wanted was to encounter her father in a dark mood like this, especially when she had no news of progress with which to cheer him. She quietly began packing up her notes, wand and beetles to take them upstairs to her room. As she sought out some lost critters who'd retreated under the couch, she heard her father banging around the kitchen. Pots and china went flying and crashing, as he ranted to her mother, who tried to calm him. 

"They wouldn't give it up, Artesia. I've never seen such damn fools in my life as those Longbottoms. I tried everything I knew…everything I could think of," his voice boomed.

Her curiosity got the best of her, and Addy peered through a crack in the door that led to the kitchen. She saw her father storming around the room, her mother desperately trying to lure him into submission with a large snifter of firewhiskey.

"He'll understand," said her mother, soothingly yet unconvincingly. 

Addy heard her father give a derisive snort, and she knew he was right. Voldemort did not simply "understand" when one of his wizards failed in an assignment, if that was indeed what had happened. Even though her father held a special, esteemed place in Voldemort's inner circle, comparable to none other, there would still be punishment for failure. Addy grew worried, and listened in more carefully.

"Nothing worked," he raged. He put his face inches from her mother's and enunciated, "No-thing!" 

"Was the baby there?" asked her mother, turning away from him. 

"No, he was not! And that certainly didn't make things any easier for me. Wait till I get my hands on Malfoy so I can 'thank' him for his background research!" 

Whoosh! The fire blazed as he hurled his glass—firewhiskey and all—into the fireplace.

"I did gather, or rather suspect—no thanks to Malfoy—that the baby was sent away to live with his dear grandmama," her father continued. "We'll find them, and we'll get rid of them, but it's unlikely that the old woman knows anything. The Longbottoms couldn't have been THAT stupid."

"Well, how did it end?"

"I tried everything—every trick in the book, for three days--but no amount of pain or torture would get them to speak. Finally, I was heavily into Crucio—it was my final effort, and I was sure they would break. I didn't think anyone could withstand that, Artesia. I've been working on my technique, and with my test subjects I've been able to play their pain like a finely-tuned instrument. Total mastery…" 

Addy swallowed hard as his voice trailed off. For one thing, there was a disturbing gleam in her father's eyes that she had never noticed before. He was rubbing his thumbs along the tips of his fingers, as though longing to feel the power of Crucio right there and then. And his voice sounded funny. He was talking about Crucio almost the way one would talk about a…a …lover. Addy shuddered involuntarily.

The other thing that concerned her, as she heard her father's words and thought of her own efforts with her beetles, was that she hadn't really taken into account the pain she could cause with this powerful new curse she'd been studying. Up until then, she had only wanted to impress and please her father, and she simply didn't think of the consequences. But for the first time she thought about what she was actually doing, and although they were only beetles, she realized she felt sorry for them. Addy had always loved animals of all kinds…even bugs…and she really didn't want to hurt them.

Her father quickly snapped himself out of his reverie, and continued his account of the evening's work:

"But these Longbottoms just took it. They screamed, they bled, they convulsed, they cried out in pain, but they would not leak a word of what they knew. Not one bloody word. They just stared at one another until their eyes glazed over—first the wife, then the husband. I believe I actually saw a smile on his face when he saw his wife slip into madness."

Then her father grew silent. He was staring into the fireplace, shaking his head from side to side, sipping from the fresh glass of liquor his wife had provided. His hand worked compulsively over the fresh beard that had sprouted during his mission.

Addy could tell that her father was shaken. In his world, things were black and white. If something was supposed to work, it worked. He was one of the most talented and powerful wizards in the world, and there was no way an ordinary wizarding couple like the Longbottoms should have been able to stand up to him. But for some reason they were, and to Iscarious Jones, the implications of these events were bigger than just this one failure. He took it as an ominous sign…as though the world were turning upside down, and this act of defiance—which should have been impossible—portended bad things to come.

*****************************

An elbow in her ribs snapped Addy out of the memory. It was Snape's. Then came his voice, hissing in her ear.

"Stop staring."

"What?" she said, never taking her eyes off Neville, who had taken his seat across from Harry.

"You're staring at the Potter boy. Stop it."

"I'm not staring at Potter."

"Yes you are," growled Snape, "and the whole school can see. You should look smug and detached, like a proper Death Eater."

Addy looked down at her plate and said, "I wasn't staring at Potter. I was staring at Longbottom."

"Well stop it."

Addy knew he was right. The memory of that night had overwhelmed her briefly, yet she knew she didn't have the luxury of slipping, even for a second. It was just that the final piece of an old puzzle had slipped into place, and she could now see the whole, ugly picture of what her father had been talking about in their kitchen that night, so long ago. 

Of course, neither he nor her mother would tell her. Artesia had managed to calm him down, and he had gone into the drawing room to greet his "Addy Lady", as he always did, with a big hug. He had asked her if she hadn't become even more beautiful while he'd been gone, and she'd teased him, telling him that she was too old for such questions. Then he patiently helped her work on Crucio until she had mastered it, and was able to send black beetles into fits of torment with a word and a wand. Addy had never been so unhappy about success in her life, yet she hid her sadness and concern, and accepted her father's praise openly. She would soon learn that that day had opened the gate to a whole new era of her life and her practice of the Dark Arts.

As she tried not to look at Neville, she sat and let the realization sink in--that this sweet, awkward boy had been orphaned 15 years ago at the hands of her father. Well, as good as orphaned—Iscarious had driven Neville's parents into irretrievable madness when he couldn't get them to betray the Ministry and leak the secrets he knew they possessed. They must have been incredibly brave people, and Addy couldn't help but wonder how this boy's life might have been different, if not for the night her father had paid them a visit.

She could do nothing more than push her food around the plate for the rest of the meal, although she did manage to maintain the façade of a "proper Death Eater.". All the while, however, she wondered about how many other families her father had destroyed, and what those infant boys and girls would be like now.

When all plates had been cleaned of both dinner and dessert, Dumbledore led the room in a cacophonous version of the school song, and the students departed for their dormitories. Snape immediately stood up and gave Addy the briefest of looks, which said, "Don't follow right after me." Addy telegraphed back, "Do you think I'm stupid?" Without a word spoken, they understood each other perfectly.

Addy conversed with Professor Sprout as the last of the students trickled out of the Hall. After

about ten minutes she excused herself, stood up, smoothed her robes and her hair, and headed off for Snape's office.

To be continued…


	13. Chapter 13: The Strategy Session

Chapter 13: The Strategy Session

To her surprise, Addy found that she was nervous. This was the moment she'd been looking forward to for two days, yet suddenly her palms were clammy and her stomach was in knots. The memories aroused by Neville Longbottom were still flooding her mind, making it difficult to concentrate on Snape or her work. 

She was so lost in thought that she missed the turn for his office. She looked up and realized she'd gone too far, yet when she tried to double back, she got herself even further disoriented. She finally made her way to the Potions Lab a half-hour later, feeling none of the confidence she'd had earlier in the day. But when she knocked on the door and he grumbled, "Enter," she discovered that the sound of his voice, although not at all welcoming, brought the present moment into sharp relief and, oddly, gave her strength. 

She entered the dungeon classroom, ready to take on Snape. He was seated at his desk on a dais at the back, and appeared deeply engrossed in reviewing some notes on pieces of parchment. Addy was reminded of their first meeting, but quickly tried to put the embarrassing memory out of her head. 

Snape didn't waste a second, but, without looking up from what he was doing, started in immediately.

"I'm quite busy these days, Miss Mayhem. I don't like to be kept waiting."

__

Oh, so we're back to 'Miss Mayhem', thought Addy. _That simply won't do_. So she accepted the challenge, responding:

"So am I, _Mister_ Snape. And I don't like to be postponed."

That got his attention. He looked up at her, eyes as dark as the bottom of the lake on a moonless night. He said slowly:

"I am a _Professor _of this school." 

"So am I," she growled back.

"Just barely."

"Nevertheless…"

His nostrils flared, but after few seconds of glaring, he simply said, "Fine." Score one for Addy. 

She finished with, "Anyway, why don't we return to less formal monikers, since we will be working so closely together. And don't forget about our deal."

He immediately averted his eyes, returning his gaze to his parchments, and writing notes in the margins as he spoke. 

"Yes, um, about our work…The start of the school term is, well, can be a difficult time for a new teacher. There is much to do…more than you realize probably. For the students, I mean. So, um, I think it would be best if we, well, held off on our sessions, for a while. At least for a few days, or maybe even a week. Or two. That will give us time to…well, that way you can get yourself settled."

Snape couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth. He was one of the best liars he knew, had looked Voldemort right in his beady red eyes and spun webs of fabrications, yet here he was stammering some ridiculous excuse that he knew sounded insincere, just to stall this lovely witch a little while longer. '_You sound like a First Year, for Merlin's sake!_' nagged the voice in his head.

For many years now, Severus Snape had been afraid of only one thing. It was not death, not pain, not Voldemort. The only thing he had feared since coming to Hogwarts was letting Dumbledore down. The only things he _had_ were his Headmaster's trust, respect, and friendship, so they were all he feared losing.

But now, there was a new fear. Adelaide Mayhem scared the living daylights out of him. He was afraid of the way he felt about her, how she might feel about him, and mostly what she could do to him. For example, only she, it now seemed, had the power to turn him into a stammering fool. He was afraid of being alone with her—he wasn't ready for that yet. He was afraid of what he might lose if he let her in, and what might be forsaken if he didn't. She was a mystery recipe, a problem with no solution, and that, more than anything, frightened him.

Meanwhile, Addy was annoyed, but not surprised. She had come prepared for this.

"We should wait?' she repeated calmly, from across the room.

"Yes," he responded, still looking down at his parchments.

"A week or two?"

"That's right. Maybe three."

"I see." Addy sighed dramatically, and put on her breeziest air of nonchalance.

"Well," she continued, "if that's what you think is best…Professor. I had _hoped_ to discuss with you the next two Death Eater attacks. You see," she purred, "I know all about them, and I have some ideas for stopping them. I had hoped you and I might work on the plans _together_, but I guess I'll just have to come up with them myself. You can read all about it in the Daily Prophet when it's over. Let's just hope my ideas are sound _and_ successful," she added, making an exaggerated "crossed-fingers" gesture, before turning on her heel and heading for the door.

Snape stood up. "Wait!" he commanded. Practically against her will, Addy stopped short. It was as though Snape's voice had spoken directly to her nervous system, and her feet obeyed instantaneously, on their own. She had not wanted to appear so eager to stay. 

"You know of two impending Death Eater attacks?" he questioned.

She turned slowly to face him across the room. "Mmmm hmmm," she said innocently.

"What do you know?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Her eyes shone and she held his stare. She crossed her arms and responded slowly, relishing the moment.

"When. Where. How. Whom."

Snape just looked at her for nearly a minute. Addy could see the debate raging within him as though it was casting shadow puppets on the candlelit wall behind him. Finally, he said two words she knew couldn't have been easy for him. He spoke them through gritted teeth, yet they melted her heart anyway.

"Don't go."

A shrewd strategist, Addy played her advantage for all it was worth. She shrugged casually, and started walking slowly towards him.

"Sit," he barked.

She stopped short, crossed her arms again and arched one eyebrow at him, pursing her lips.

At first Snape looked confused, but then he got the message. Sighing with great vexation, he rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, "Won't you please have a seat?  


Addy smiled and said, "Thanks, but I don't think so."

Snape frowned.

"This is a classroom, and this seat is for students. I'm not one of your students. I appreciate your help and guidance, certainly, but I think we should have our meeting in your office, like colleagues."

Snape took a deep, temper-moderating breath. Then he held out his arm toward his office door with exaggerated gallantry, and said, "After you, m'lady."

As she brushed past him, Addy flashed her brilliant smile and said, "Really, Professor…'Addy' will do just fine." 

Snape's office astounded her—it was not at all what she had expected. As it turned out, he was really something of a pack rat. 

Covered from floor to ceiling with shelving that held mysterious bottles and jars and all manner of strange instruments, the room had a rustic style that she found surprising and genuinely charming. It was clear that Snape had made a home for himself and his work here, and Addy had a million questions on the tip of her tongue: what does this do? Where did you find that? How does this work? But she knew she was trying his patience as it was, so she wisely kept quiet and didn't touch anything. Perhaps she could get Snape to show her around at a future date.

The room was pleasantly cool and the earthy smell of it somehow reminded her of her home in India. The only sound was that of a clock ticking faintly somewhere, although she couldn't detect its source. Torches blazed from sconces on the wall, casting the room in a warm glow that bounced off the strangely shaped jars and decanters.

Snape seemed embarrassed at the state of his office, cluttered as it was with items both professional and personal. This was the first time he'd had a visitor here in a long while, aside from Dumbledore or an errant student. He put a few logs into the wood stove to warm the room, and spent a few minutes uneasily moving things from one place to another, then often back again. Addy walked around, gaping at his possessions, her footsteps creating a gently padding rhythm on the stone floor. 

He watched her from behind as she ran her hands over a carved windowsill, then leaned on it and gazed out over the grounds. When she turned round and beamed at him wordlessly, he immediately looked away and went to clear off the old, round wooden table in the back where they would work. When it was ready, he cleared his throat as a way of inviting her to sit down.

Addy came to the table and spread her notes out in front of her. Snape sat down uneasily, adjusting his chair first closer to her, so he could see her papers, then away from her, after realizing just how near she was, then edging a bit back in her direction. He coughed a few times, straightened his robes, and finally started them off with, "So, what about these attacks?"

Addy began telling him what she knew. "OK, the first one is scheduled to take place two weeks from today, so we don't have much time—"

Snape cut her off, abruptly realizing that it was customary to offer a guest something to eat or drink. He blurted out, nearly shouting, "Do you need tea?"

Addy jumped at the sudden, strange interruption, nearly knocking over a jar of quills on the table, and said, "Excuse me?"

Snape ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, would you _like_ some tea? I could make some."

"Uh, yes, tea would be nice. Thanks."

He got up so forcefully that he tipped over his chair, and knocked heads with Addy as they both reached down to right it. Glad to put some distance between them, if only for a few minutes, he went to the stove to put a kettle on. "Please continue," he said. "I can hear you from here."

"As I was saying," said Addy, rubbing her sore head where it had made contact with Snape's, "the first attack is going to be an explosion. Do you know a Death Eater named Marlin Pugh?"

"I don't think so," he replied, fumbling with the teapot.

"He's a big gorilla of a guy, not too bright. He's been assigned to create a large explosion in the London Underground at 8:00 Monday morning, exactly two weeks from today. Voldemort is hoping to kill a few dozen Muggles, wound many more, and cripple the city's transportation system for at least a few days. It's just a stunt to him—he's hoping to get the Ministry's attention and generally cause a commotion."

Snape paused in brushing away the tea leaves he'd spilled and gawked at her. "How do you know this?"

"I told you already," replied Addy impatiently. She wanted to get down to strategy, not waste time with endless explanations. "Before I came to Hogwarts, I gained Voldemort's confidence and he would frequently boast to me about his big plans for bringing the Ministry to its knees. What I couldn't get from him I got from my father, some of it directly and the rest overheard. Plus, my patients helped to fill in the details under the influence of Veritaserum and various painkillers. Contrary to what you believe, Snape, I didn't just show up at the Hogwarts doorstep whining for forgiveness!"

For a fraction of a second, Addy saw a look in Snape's eyes—part guilt and part hurt. She realized that she had sounded harsher than she intended.

"Anyway," she continued, softening her tone, "I'm figuring that we can intercept and capture Pugh before anyone gets hurt. We just have to figure out the particulars."

Snape nodded, and Addy could see that his wheels were already in motion, conjuring plans. He returned to his seat at the table, and leaned in to her, now eager to hear the rest. "You said there would be two attacks. What's the other one?"

Addy gleamed at him and gave him a mischievous smile. "The second one is a poisoning."

Snape's eyes widened and his mouth opened, and Addy was distracted for just a moment by how soft his lips looked. Her hand twitched unwittingly, wanting to reach out and lay a finger on them.

"What kind of poisoning?" he asked.

"Three days after the Underground incident, Voldemort is going to poison the Minister of Magic." She shifted her position so that she was sitting in the big chair on her knees, her legs tucked under her.

"Fudge?" Snape asked, excitedly. He couldn't believe that she had all this information, and here she was spelling it out for him. His thoughts raced ahead, realizing just how much she could help their cause. Dumbledore had been right when he'd referred to her as "invaluable."

"Yep, Fudge," she replied, nodding with excitement. "I don't know whose got the assignment, but it doesn't matter. All we need to do is be ready with the antidote."

"What is Voldemort using for the job?"

Addy frowned a bit and said, "I don't know exactly what it is—couldn't get the formula out of anyone. But it's Voldemort's signature potion—he calls it "The Snakebite." I'm hoping you know it?" she said, looking up at him optimistically.

She saw Snape's back straighten, and he looked down at his hands morosely. There was a moment of silence, filled only with the small sound of that ticking clock.

"Yes, I know it," he said quietly, his voice choked. "I made it for him." 

Addy wanted to slap herself. Of course! In her excitement about her news, she never once considered that The Snakebite might be one of Snape's old recipes. 

He was still looking down, his interlaced hands clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white. She knew he was facing a powerful demon inside, so she laid a hand gently on his forearm, saying softly, "Snape, try to think about what's true here…now…today."

He looked up at her with a far-away expression, and she continued:

"If you hadn't been the one to make that potion, we would never know what's in it, and we'd have no hope of coming up with an antidote in time. We'd just have to sit here, knowing what was about to happen, but powerless to do anything about it. But since you were the creator, you alone have the power—and now the knowledge—to stop this thing." She hesitated. "You _can_ come up with an antidote, can't you?"

"Oh, there will be an antidote," he replied gravely. "With time to spare. Let there be no doubt in your mind." His eyes flashed with a fervor that, indeed, left her with no doubts.

"OK then," she said, squeezing his arm. She saw his hands relax and some of the darkness lift from his stare, and her heart leapt to know that she had been able to relieve a tiny bit of his pain.

Severus' mind weaved between mixed emotions. Normally, this kind of ugly reminder of his past would have sent him into a spin of guilt and self-loathing. He had been alone for so long, yet here was someone now who had said just the right thing, at just the right time, to refocus his energy on a solution. No one had ever been able to do that for him in just this way.

Yet through his feelings of gratitude and relief, the Voice in his head cut a biting swathe. It was a voice of Fear that said, 'Have you grown so weak…so pathetic…that you need this witch to keep your mind on the job? You shouldn't have needed to hear it from her! What if she is not here the next time you begin to sink into self-pity? Or do you intend to follow her around, hanging on her robes, waiting for her to dispense words of encouragement for you like a baby searching for the breast?"

Suddenly, he realized that she was still talking…she had carried on, unaware of the inner condemnation that, of course, only he could hear. At that moment, the screeching whistle of the kettle mercifully overcame the horrible Voice. He stood up and went to the stove.

When he returned with two cups of strong, black tea, he asked her if she could repeat what she'd been saying, and she obliged, if somewhat impatiently. Addy had turned her attention back to the first attack, and had started drawing a crude map on a piece of parchment. He set the tea down, placing his hands on the back of her chair and leaning over her shoulder to see what she had drawn.

At once, she got a whiff of his scent that hurled her insides into a mad flutter. That caused her to again splatter ink on herself—for the third time that day!—which in turn caused her to jerk her hand away, overturning her cup and spilling tea all over her map and herself.

"Bloody hell!" she swore, jumping up and nearly knocking Snape over. She hated how much she sounded like her father when she swore. She wiped her robes with her hands and then unconsciously rubbed her face—another old habit she'd picked up courtesy of Iscarious-- smearing a dark, inky stain across her forehead and down her cheeks.

She quickly unclasped her robe to see if the liquid had penetrated to the clothes she wore beneath (another set of black tank top and linen pants). She was shaking out her robe and mumbling to herself something about being such a damned clumsy idiot, when she became aware of a strange, new sound coming from nearby. She looked back at Snape, realizing with irritation what it was.

Snape was laughing. It had suddenly dawned on him that she was nervous too—perhaps as nervous as he. This new insight flooded him with relief, and drove the critical Voice in his head even further away. It was a beautiful night, the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle and roses was snaking its way through the open window, and he slowly felt himself drowning in her charms. She had helped him—he couldn't deny it. She was beautiful, and she was here, and she had helped him. She had kept up her end of their deal, at least through this first test, and moreover, it seemed as though she genuinely cared about him. And, besides, she did look ridiculous, with tea and ink smudged all over her face. 

"It isn't funny," she said, sulking. "I'm so damn clumsy. My father is always calling me a "butterfingers" and he's right. About that, anyway."

"Well then," he said, still chuckling, "remind me not to send you out on any bomb defusing missions. Here, let me take that," he said, whisking her robe away and performing a quick spell on it, and on the table and the map, until everything was clean again. Well, almost everything.

"Thanks," she said, relaxing yet still scowling at herself.

"You, um, you have something…" he said, gesturing at her face. 

She looked at him questioningly and wiped her face with a still dirty hand, smudging it even more. Snape bit his lower lip in an effort to suppress his laughter. "Here, let me."

He reached his hands out to her face, and Addy leaned backwards, flinching involuntarily. "It's okay," he said, gently. Then he placed his rough hands on her cheeks. Addy closed her eyes. As he whispered an incantation, he ran his hands softly over the grime on her face, and when he pulled them away, it was gone. She opened her eyes and he took her hands in his, turning them upwards so she could understand the mess she'd made.

When she saw them, she too had to laugh at herself. Snape held her little hands on top of his large ones, and tenderly spoke the incantation again, rubbing her palms with his thumbs. The stain was now gone, but he did not let go. They stood there, looking at each other for a few moments, their breath growing shallower with each second. Snape continued to rub her hands softly, as he looked deep into her soul. She could see the deepened creases at the corners of his eyes, left behind from his silvery laughter. She took a step toward him.

At that second, the pain came to her. She drew in a deep breath and yanked her hands from his. Her left hand clutched her chest, while she supported herself with her other one on the back of the chair. It had started as a stabbing pain at first, as though someone was sticking needles into her heart. Yet it was progressing quickly into an icy, sharp, throbbing sensation that caused her to double over.

"What's wrong?" asked Snape, grabbing her arms for support.

She looked up at him gravely, tears of torment springing to her eyes.

"It's Voldemort. He's calling me."

To be continued…


	14. Chapter 14: The Visit

Chapter 14: The Visit

The pain was growing worse by the second. Her Dark Mark throbbed with an urgent, icy heat. She knew that if she didn't respond within a few minutes, she'd be able to smell her searing flesh, and the pain would emanate outwards until despair encompassed her--body and soul.

She reached for her robe and, with it, her wand. As she stretched out her left hand for it, Snape looked down, expecting to finally see her Mark blazing black against the white flesh of her inner arm. But still, it was not there.

He wanted to ask her about it again, but anyone could see she was in agony. So he grabbed her robe and handed it to her. She threw it around her shoulders and reached for the wand in her pocket. As she pulled it out, Snape asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm disapparating. I have to go to Voldemort," she whispered, barely able to catch her breath, much less get the words out.

"You can't disapparate from here," he said.

"What do you mean?" cried Addy in dismay, desperate to answer Voldemort's call and stop the burning as quickly as possible.

Snape looked at her sadly, wishing he could do something for her. He knew how it felt…the driving torment that threatened to obscure all reason, the mad dash to the gate, the single-minded desire for relief. "No one can apparate or disapparate within the Hogwarts grounds," he said, grabbing her by the arm and leading her out of his office. "Nobody told you?"

Addy shook her head and gazed at him pleadingly. She was again clutching her heart and her eyes held a torrent of pain.

"Come on," said Snape, pulling her through the Potions classroom and out into the Hall. "Wait a minute," he said, coming to a sudden halt. He leaned over to look her in the eye and said clearly, "Wait here, I'll be right back."

Addy nodded and leaned on the cool stone wall of the corridor for support, as Snape disappeared back into his classroom. She hoped he'd hurry.

Snape dashed around his office collecting a few items that would be useful, then ran into the storeroom at the back of his Potions lab. He knew each shelf and bottle like the back of his hand, and made a beeline for the one he wanted. Grabbing a small flask filled with a milky white liquid, he expertly decanted a bit into a vial, neatly inserted a stopper, and ran back out to Addy.

She had waited for him without moving, although every second felt like an eternity. He handed her the vial saying, "Drink this, and let's go." She could see that he had two other items stuffed under his arm, but she couldn't tell what they were.

Addy took the vial and raised it to her lips, but something deep and old inside her stopped her from drinking. No born-and-raised Death Eater would ever simply accept a strange liquid from someone else—_particularly_ from another Death Eater, reformed or not. In moments of stress, like this one, the old ways ingrained in her since before she could remember resurfaced. She eyed the vial, and then Snape, with suspicion. 

"What is it?"

"It will make you feel a little better. Not much, and not for long, but it will help a little," said Snape. The longing to do more for her could be heard in his voice, but not by Addy, who was too busy listening to her Father's voice in her head as he reproached her for being too trusting…too naïve.

"What's in it?" she asked again, looking at Snape through narrowed eyes.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" he hissed, running his hands through his hair. He was trying not to be too impatient with her, because he knew this was just an old habit gasping for one last breath. 

He'd had them too, when he first came. In fact, for nearly a year after he first arrived at Hogwarts, he would take food _only_ from the same platter as Dumbledore, and would pour himself drink _only_ from the same pitcher as Dumbledore had used. The rest of the staff had grown weary of passing the laden dishes back and forth across the table, when there were perfectly good platters of food right in front of Snape. Yet they knew he would need time to adapt to a safe and trusting environment, so they wisely gave him the space he needed. The day finally came when he tentatively plunged his fork into the lamb chops on the platter set before him, rather than asking for the Headmaster's. The staff had watched with bated breath as he eyeballed and sniffed at it, before digging in and eating the whole thing with relish, reaching for a second helping and then a third. And that was the end of the passing of food. Over the years, from time to time, whenever one of the staff members wanted to get under his skin or remind him just how far he'd come, they would teasingly refer to "The Great Lamb Chop Breakthrough." Snape would have smiled at the recollection, if the present situation hadn't been so dire.

Unfortunately, Addy didn't have the same luxury of time as he'd had with the lamb chops. So he tried to inject his voice with as much kindness and tolerance as possible, saying "Do you want me to explain the entire recipe and brewing process, while you pass out from pain? Or will you trust me, so we can get you to Voldemort?"

Something about the sound of his voice summoned her reason from its hiding place, and it quickly won out against habit. She knew in her heart that she could trust him, so she lifted the vial and downed it in one shot. In a way, she was lucky that she was in so much pain, for it blotted out the awful taste of the potion he'd given her. Within instants, the fiery grip on her heart eased a bit, and she found that she could stand straight again.

"Let's go," said Snape, "that stuff will wear off much sooner than we'd like, and Voldemort is waiting for you." He grabbed her hand and led her down the hall, in the opposite direction from which she had approached his door. _He must know another way out_, she thought.

Snape pulled her along unwaveringly, through dark, snakelike corridors that Addy could swear she'd never noticed before. At the end of the last corridor, they came to a heavy, arched wooden doorway that appeared to be completely sealed, with no latch or knob of any kind. He spoke an incantation, and the door swung open into a vaulted tunnel. 

With a sharp call of "Lumos," his wand lit the way. He had to duck to keep from hitting his head as they rushed along the wet flagstones. Addy could smell the dewy, earthy fragrance of outdoors growing stronger, as she rushed forward, her hand gripped firmly in Snape's. She suddenly remembered the moment they'd shared just before she had felt Voldemort's call. '_Of all the rotten timing!_' she thought to herself. 

In a short while they sprang from the tunnel into the heavy, pungent night air.

Then Addy discovered what one of the items under his arm was, as he swiftly shrouded them both under a large, shimmery piece of fabric. Snape spoke to her in a strong, clear tone, hoping to give her strength and something to focus on besides Voldemort's burning invitation. "I'll escort you to the gate so you can disapparate. Now that the students are here, you'll need to use an invisibility cloak whenever you are summoned. We don't want anyone asking too many questions about why you and I are always coming and going."

Addy nodded again. The pain was making its encore in nauseating waves, robbing her of her voice. She could see that the exit Snape had chosen was not exactly secret—the tunnel could be seen plainly from the outside—it was just little-used. From the tunnel exit, a path stretched out before them, cutting through the carpet of lawn that stretched across the back of the grounds, and leading straight to a gate in the great stone wall that bordered the school. It was not too far ahead. 

She was doubling over again and nearly collapsed against him, as he propelled them both across the perfectly clipped grass. He kept one arm firmly around her waist as they loped along under the cloak, and she let her head sink against his chest. This close, she could feel the sinewy power of his body underneath his robes…the sturdy quadriceps at the front of his thigh stretching and contracting as he dragged her along, the steady rise and fall of his torso, the way his arm encircled and pressed her solidly to him. 

She held on to him with all the strength she could muster. He whispered into her ear, reviewing the past few days she'd spent at Hogwarts and reminding her of the details she could and could not share with Voldemort. She willed her mind to cut through the pain and tune in to what he was saying.

Voldemort must have been growing impatient, because Addy suddenly felt a scorching blade drill through her heart. Stumbling with the pain, she nearly brought them both to the ground. Snape's face creased as though he were feeling every bit of her agony. Bending down to lift her, he offered, "Let me carry you." 

But Addy managed to croak out, "No!" and pushed him away. She would not allow herself to be hauled away from Hogwarts like a broken doll. Clutching her robes, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to straighten a bit so she could walk properly. He never let go of his tight hold on her.

When they reached the gate, Severus opened it and ushered her through to the other side. She reached for her wand as he pulled out the last item he'd retrieved from his office. It was a black woolen scarf, which he began wrapping around her neck.

Addy was only faintly aware of what he was doing at first, but when she fully realized it, she shook her head and started unwrapping it from the other end. Snape said, "Take it. Have you forgotten how cold it is at The Compound? You'll freeze in those summer robes."

She shook her head again and tried to push him away as she unwrapped it. "Damn, you are a stubborn witch!" he shouted. At the sight of the rejection in his eyes, she summoned the last of her strength, licked her dry lips, and croaked, "Can't…he'll know it's not mine…he'll smell you."

She finished unwrapping the scarf and held it out weakly to him, managing a small smile of gratitude. He knew she was right—what had he been thinking?—and took it sadly from her. She took a few steps back and withdrew her wand from the pocket of her robe.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, with another wan smile and a feeble wave. And in the next second, she was gone. Snape reached his hand out slowly to the spot where she had stood, and closed his fist on empty air.

************************************

In the next instant, Addy was kneeling on a cold stone floor in a barren antechamber. The sound of the far-away clock in Snape's office was now replaced with the persistent plunk-plunk of water on granite. Her heart was immediately freed of its painful vise, and her head began to clear. 

Addy recognized the room—it was round, with an arched doorway on the far side from where she knelt. A heavy black curtain hung down in front of the doorway—on the other side, Voldemort would be waiting for her. 

As she blinked her eyes and stood up straight, she became aware of an enormous snake, coiling around her legs. The snake moved quickly with the exquisite grip and pull of a thousand tiny muscles, and in seconds it had imprisoned her in its reptilian embrace. The massive head slithered over her shoulder and came to rest against her neck. The snake's head was larger than her own, and, with its hinged jaws, could easily devour a person three times Addy's size.

"Hello Nagini. It's good to see you again," she said, pressing her cheek against the beast.

Everyone thought that Nagini—Voldemort's giant pet—was a monster. But Addy knew that she was just a very large creature with a very small brain. It wasn't Nagini's fault that Voldemort nourished her on the bodies of his victims—she was a carnivore, after all, and she had to eat. She was basically another prisoner here at The Compound, just as Addy had been.

Addy had known Nagini since she was a little girl, and the reptile guarded and protected her as if Addy were her own offspring. Nagini was the only one with whom Addy could converse in Parseltongue--the language she'd been born knowing—and had been her sole playmate throughout her childhood. Everyone had marveled at the little girl who seemed to have tamed the monster. But all Addy had ever seen was a sweet and gentle, if misunderstood, giant. 

"It's so good to have you back," said Nagini. "I've missed you."

"Nagini! I've only been gone a few days!" laughed Addy.

"Is that all it's been? This place seems so empty and quiet without you," Nagini replied sadly, and Addy wished she could take her back with her to Hogwarts. She wondered what would become of the snake when—or rather if—her group managed to defeat Voldemort, and mused that Nagini would make an excellent companion for Hagrid.

"How are you?" asked Addy.

"Hungry, as usual. But other than that, Master has been in moderate spirits lately, so all is well," answered the snake, coiling a bit more with the excitement of having her friend back.

Nagini's "hug" chased the wind from Addy's lungs, and she coughed out, "Hey, ease up a bit! I'm happy to see you too, but that's quite a squeeze you're giving me!" They laughed together as Nagini reluctantly released her friend and slithered back down to the ground.

"Let's go see Voldemort, shall we?" said Addy brightly, hoping to mask her anxiety. She was glad to have had a moment with her old pal, to reorient herself to her former world and catch her breath before facing the one who had called her there.

She steadied herself and walked across the chamber to the archway, parting the curtains and stepping into Voldemort's throne room. There he sat at the far end of the room, as expected, his scaly hands poking through his robes as they rested on the arms of a massive chair. A large, empty fire pit sat in the center of the room, it's coals dark and cold, and Addy felt the chill of the room course through her. Snape had been right, of course. The place was like a frozen tomb.

As he looked up at her, a gleam shot through his tiny, crimson eyes, their black, diamond-shaped pupils contracting and dilating. Addy bowed her head in the customary manner, stretching her neck as far as it would go until her chin nearly touched her chest. "My Lord," she said, trying her damnedest to sound reverent, rather than disgusted. "You called?"

"Ahhhhhhhhh," he said, the sound rattling in his throat, "my little Adder has returned." 

He always called her that. 

"So good of you to come, and so promptly!" he continued. Come here and sit with me for a short while…I shall not keep you long." He beckoned to her with one scabrous finger.

Addy lifted her head and approached him with a smile. She knelt down in front of him in her usual spot, and as she rested her head on his knee, she heard his parchment-like skin crunch beneath her ear. He began to run his fingers through her hair, and Addy could hear his long fingernails scraping against her scalp. This close to him, she had to force herself from gagging at his sulfurous stench.

Addy knew that, when "conversing" with Voldemort, one did not speak unless asked a direct question. Only her father could get away with interrupting or challenging him. So she knelt there quietly for a few minutes while Voldemort petted her head, an activity which he always seemed to enjoy. She saw Nagini slither into the room and curl up in front of the fire pit, across from her.

Finally, he said, "So, how are you finding Hogwarts?"

"It's horrid," she replied enthusiastically. Then she added casually, "But I do feel that my presence there can do you some good."

"And the old fool? How is he?"

At this, Addy looked up at him, gazing into his slitted nostrils. "He seems weak, My Lord. I had expected him to be much stronger. When the time comes, he will not pose much of a threat to you." Addy hoped to diminish Voldmort's expectations of the resistance from Hogwarts, and give him a false sense of confidence.

"Ah, yes, my pet. But he has hidden powers that perhaps you can not see."

They sat in silence for another minute. Then Voldemort said:

"And, have you discovered your little surprise?"

"You mean Snape?" she replied, sounding intentionally unimpressed.

"So," he said, chuckling deep in his chest, "you have finally met our esteemed Potions Master. And what do you think of _him_?"

"Not much," she replied. "He's a bit of a bore, isn't he?"

"You find Snape boorish?"

"Well, yes, that too," said Addy, not wanting to contradict him. Then she put on a girlish pout and looked up at him again. "Why didn't you tell me you already had a spy at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, Lucius and I thought it would be fun to have a little joke on you both. How did you know he was a Death Eater?" he asked, a bit of suspicion sneaking into his voice.

"Master, everyone here has heard of Severus Snape. He's famous! But I didn't know you had him working out of Hogwarts."

"And I presume he also knows about you, my dear?"

Addy froze inside. She and Snape had not discussed how they would handle this. Not knowing whether she'd have a chance to brief him before Voldemort summoned him, she decided that the truth would be better than a lie in this instance.

"When I discovered he was there, I told him I was Iscarious' daughter. I figured you'd want him to know," she replied, looking up at him innocently and hoping for his approval.

"Yes, that's fine. It's good to see my two Hogwarts spies are keeping on their toes. I would like you to keep an eye on him for me. We must be sure he is not being unduly influenced by the old wizard."

"Of course, My Lord," she said, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

"And the Potter Boy. You've seen him?"

With this question, Addy's well trained ears detected the most minute adjustment in Voldemort's voice and demeanor. It was nothing more than a shadow, really, but to a skilled listener it spoke volumes. She sensed that the very idea of Harry Potter was both precious and perilous to him.

Addy was now on shaky footing, since she knew that Voldemort, who was a loose canon under the best of circumstances, could readily become utterly unstable whenever the subject of Harry Potter was brought up. It had been the only time he'd ever harmed her father, who had returned home with a three inch gash on his cheek after once suggesting that Voldemort's notorious visit to the Potter household had possibly been premature. 

She felt sure that Snape would have some advice on how to handle questions about Potter, but they hadn't discussed it yet. Neither of them had thought she'd be called back so soon.

"Yes," she treaded lightly.

"And?"

"He's a boy." 

"Does he look well? Strong and healthy?"

"He is skinny, but otherwise looks like a normal teenage boy. But," she remembered to add quickly, "of course, he is _not_ a normal boy. However, I'm afraid the source of his power remains a mystery, My Lord," she lied. 

Addy had a pretty good idea of what the source of Harry's power was. It was what every person sought, what everyone craved, what propelled the human race through peaks of ecstasy, plains of sorrow, and pits of madness in its pursuit. But she wasn't sure Voldemort could fathom it, even if she had wanted to divulge it. And of course, she did not.

"You are right, my dear," Voldemort said, with a distant gaze. "He is not a normal boy. He has defeated me many times. He will not defeat me again." The madness in his voice reeked of vulnerability, and Addy made a mental note.

As he spoke of Harry Potter, Addy became aware of the increased pressure with which he clawed at her hair. Soon she felt a warm, silky trail of blood trickle down the back of her neck as his fingernails pierced the surface of her scalp. She swallowed the fear that was writhing upwards within her. Nagini appeared to be dozing, but her tongue flicked out instinctively, homing in on the trace of the coppery scent in the air.

Addy molded her face into a beatific smile, steeled herself, and turned to face him, taking the soft, scaly flesh of his hands into hers. Again her mind flashed back to Snape's office, and she felt a surge of longing to be back at Hogwarts, discussing strategy, drinking tea--even bonking heads--with Snape.

"He will not defeat you again, My Lord. The end—and the beginning—are near." She tried to rally the old zealous fervor into her voice. She must have seemed genuine to Voldemort, because he looked down at her with his small pointy teeth bared, eyes moving excitedly in separate directions, and the skin of his mouth stretched tight and wide in a chilling imitation of a smile. 

Voldemort was quiet for a long while. Addy laid her head back down and waited, freezing on the stone floor and trying to keep from shivering. The walls seemed to be slowly closing in on them, but Addy knew it was only an enchantment designed to trick the mind, and forced herself to remain calm.

Time stood still, and pretty soon she had no idea if she had been there for several minutes, or an hour, or more. It was a particular quality of Voldemort's Throne Room that she had always despised. The place had been built for madness, and she tried not to think about how much time Voldemort had spent in here, or what the landscape of his mind must look like as a result. She listened to Voldemort's labored breathing as the wind shivered in and out of his papery lungs.

Finally, she drew up the courage to ask him a question. 

"How are the plans coming for the 'Underground Project?'"

"Fine, my dear. You needn't worry about that. I promised your father I'd keep you away from my little fireworks displays."

"But everything is on schedule, I presume?"

"Of course. Pugh is raring to go, but we must teach him patience, mustn't we? I've asked him to bring back a nice hearty meal for Nagini afterwards," he said, with a bloodthirsty purr.

Addy dared not ask more.

Unmeasurable time had passed when she finally heard footsteps approaching through the antechamber. She looked up to see her father burst through the curtains, a look of joyful anticipation on his face.

"There's my Addy Lady!" Only her father's booming voice could rise above the dead air of the Throne Room and manage to lift her spirits, if merely reflexively. "You weren't going to keep her all night, were you Voldemort?"

Addy cursed herself, but she couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat at the sight of her father, his eyes twinkling with affection and his arms spread wide, waiting for her.

She looked up at Voldemort, who lazily nodded his approval. Then she leapt up and ran to her father. He was a large man and Addy sunk into his embrace, feeling time instantly peel away from her until she was five years old again. He was so big, so familiar—the scent of his pipe, the scratch of his beard, the cadence of his laugh. Smothered in his embrace, Addy was drawn back to a day when her world had been filled with safety and devotion, and devoid of complications, suspicion and guilt.

It was a lovely time and place, but Addy knew she couldn't stay there. To live there was to live in delusion. So she hurtled herself back to the present reality, in which both she and the man hugging her were Death Eaters, responsible for the destruction of hundreds, possibly thousands, of lives, and she was, at that very moment, in the process of deceiving this murderer who had raised her.

"Are you through with her, Voldemort? Artesia and I are eager to hear all about the work our little Addy Lady's been up to."

"Yes, Iscarious. Adelaide is through here, but she can not go with you. She must return to Hogwarts now."

"Oh, Voldemort…she just got here, and she hasn't even had a chance to see her Mother."

Addy looked back over her shoulder at Voldemort, anxious to see if her father's appeal held any sway. She was eager to get back home—to Hogwarts.

"Not tonight. We don't want to arouse any suspicions at the school."

Her father looked down at her, and she returned his gaze, affecting a disappointed look. They both knew from Voldemort's tone that it would do no good to argue. He pointed a finger at the creature in the throne and said, "Next time, she stays for dinner. We want a whole evening with her. She is _still _my daughter."

Voldemort nodded. "Of course, of course. Until next time, my dear," he said, with a wave of his clawed hand. "Why don't you escort her out, Iscarious." Nagini bobbed her head in farewell. 

Father and daughter walked together back into the antechamber. When they were alone, he turned to face her and squeezed her shoulders. "Your mother and I are so proud of you," he said. Then he planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead, and Addy thought she might have seen a glisten in his eye.

"You don't know how happy that makes me," Addy said, only half-lying. She waved goodbye with a rueful smile, and disapparated, leaving behind a sprinkle of silver dust as a parting token for her father.

***********************************

In a blink, she was standing once again just outside the back gate to Hogwarts, the smile gone from her face. Immediately, she placed both hands on the stone wall, leaned over, and vomited.

As she retched, she thought about how tired she was and the long walk back to the school, with no invisibility cloak. She would have to be stealthy, but dared not take the back tunnel, for she had no idea how to navigate the corridors back to her room. She would have to walk all the way around to the front entrance, and, although it was a warm night, her bones were still chilled from The Compound, and her head was beginning to ache with exhaustion.

When the heaving of her stomach finally stopped, she removed one hand from the wall to wipe her face. Just then, a green silk handkerchief appeared under he nose. It dangled from long, expressive fingers, which were attached to the buttoned-up arm of Severus Snape. 

He had stood there, in the spot where she had left him, for the three hours she'd been gone, awaiting her return. Addy looked up in joyful amazement. She was so happy to see him, she could have thrown her arms around him.

But Snape had not spent the time idly. For the past three hours, his mind had been working in overdrive, meticulously reviewing the details of events since Addy's appearance at Hogwarts. And he now had a few questions for his fellow "former" Death Eater.


	15. Chapter 15: Tricks of the Mind

Author's note:  This is a slightly different version of Chapter 15 from the one I originally posted last night (3/3).  Very slightly.  Actually, there is only one line changed—the last one.  It was bugging me.  Many thanks to Arachne's Child for her feedback and for helping me to listen to what _my_ inner voice was saying to me.

**************************

Chapter 15: Tricks of the Mind

_Be still my beating heart   
It would be better to be cool   
It's not time to be open just yet   
A lesson once learned is so hard to forget   
  
Be still my beating heart   
Or I'll be taken for a fool   
It's not healthy to run at this pace   
The blood runs so red to my face   
  
I've been to every single book I know   
To soothe the thoughts that plague me so   
I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean   
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion   
  
Stop before you start   
Be still my beating heart   
  
Restore my broken dreams_   
_Shattered like a falling glass   
I'm not ready to be broken just yet   
A lesson once learned is so hard to forget   
  
Be still my beating heart   
You must learn to stand your ground   
It's not healthy to run at this pace   
The blood runs so red to my face   
  
Never to be wrong   
Never to make promises that break   
It's like singing in the wind   
Or writing on the surface of a lake   
  
And I wriggle like a fish caught on dry land   
Struggle to avoid any help at hand   
  
I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean   
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion   
Stop before you start  
Be still my beating heart  
_--STING

********************

After Addy had disapparated, Snape had lingered just outside the gate, unsure of what to do with himself. He had contemplated returning to the castle, but it was a lovely late summer evening, and he decided to wait around a bit to see if she returned shortly. He had no idea what was going on at The Compound, but figured Addy might need a helping hand upon her reappearance.

As he leaned against the stone wall, he thought about how soft her small hands had felt resting in the palms of his, and her large green eyes with their golden flecks glowing warm and deep. He had seen her take that step toward him, just before she doubled over in pain, and its potential had not been lost on him. 

If that blasted Voldemort had not called her at that exact moment, what would have happened? Snape let his mind wander down that path a few minutes, his lips curving into a small smile as he contemplated it. It had been so long since he'd allowed a woman's affection to penetrate his armor, yet now it didn't seem as if he had much of a choice. She was irresistible.

He laughed, remembering the look on her face when she'd smeared ink all over it, and the way he'd felt her charms swirling around him, like a bubbling whirlpool. He could have stayed in that moment forever…lost in her eyes and in her touch.

'_She's delightful, isn't she?_' said the Voice that lived inside him.

'Yes," he thought. 'The most interesting thing to come around in a long while.'

'_With a strange, fascinating allure, wouldn't you say?_'

'Strange, indeed.' Snape smiled.

'_And she knows so much! In fact, at this very moment she is with Voldemort, perhaps discussing more of his plans…_'

His thoughts turned to their strategy session, and he began to ponder what was being discussed just then between Addy and Voldemort. The Voice was quite for a while, and then it spoke to him again, softly, like a whisper on the breeze:

'_I suppose it remains to be seen whether her information is accurate or not_.' 

Snape's brow furrowed instinctively. 

'I suppose," he mused. Up until then, he hadn't thought to question it.

'_And if…earlier tonight…she had asked you to divulge everything _you_ know? You would not have been able to refuse her, would you?_'

Snape shifted his weight from one leg to another, and crossed his arms. That was ridiculous! Of course he would have been able to refuse her, if he'd thought it necessary. It's not as though he'd been bewitched, after all. 

And besides, he didn't need to protect himself against her. They were on the same side.

Weren't they?

His mind wandered to the sensations he'd felt in his office earlier that evening. Fumbling … swirling … drowning … losing himself in the deep green pools of her eyes. Losing himself.

Losing control.

He had to admit that he hadn't seemed himself lately. A tiny knot appeared in his stomach, and he began to pace.

He wondered exactly how he'd become so fixated on her, in such a short time. It was true that since she'd arrived, he'd been able to think of little else. Just yesterday, he'd sat in his office all day staring at the door, hoping she'd walk through it. That wasn't like him. And where had she been the whole day anyway? He'd searched the entire castle for her and had never found her.

He pondered over how sorely disappointed she'd seemed when he had canceled their session the previous night. Why had it been so important to her? Why had she insisted they meet in his office tonight? And why had he given up his whole evening—the last night before classes—first bumbling around his office and then walking her to the gate, when he could have been working? What had come over him? 

And really, when he analyzed it with cool, crisp reason, how _could_ he be certain that the information Addy had provided was authentic? All this business about Marlin Pugh and the explosion in the Underground—it could just as easily be some sort of trap, couldn't it? 

Was it possible that she had fooled Dumbledore? He was only a wizard after all. Very powerful, yes, but prone to misjudgment like anyone else. 

But what about Fawkes? Perhaps a Phoenix could make a mistake too, once in a thousand lifetimes.

As the night air cooled and cleared his brain, all the pieces started to fall into place for Severus Snape. When one thought about it, if Voldemort had wanted to ensnare him, Adelaide Jones _was_ the perfect candidate. Voldemort would know that Snape would have his guard up—hell, he'd learned it from his Master—so it would be essential to choose a seductress who seemed completely guileless. Addy had certainly mastered that! And, of course, someone beautiful, but not too obviously so—no sirens or veela types. 

Yes, when one thought about it, who better to groom as the quintessential double-crosser than Iscarious Jones' own daughter?

And then, Snape remembered the final piece of the puzzle. She had no Dark Mark. The whole drama of the evening could have been an outright charade, designed to camouflage her true strength…and allegiances.

By the time Addy returned, he had worn a groove in the soft earth beneath him, slowly convincing himself that she had been methodically seducing him for the past three days. Her orders from Voldemort had plainly been to gain access to his inner office (she had, indeed, taken an inordinate interest in all his potions and possessions), plant the phony story of the Underground explosion, and then fake a painful summons so as to return to The Compound for further orders. They were probably planning her next move at that very moment. It was all so obvious!

It was also a lot easier for Snape to accept than the alternative—that a smart, exquisite witch genuinely cared for him and harbored feelings for him that surpassed friendship. That the lonely shroud under which he lived could finally be lifted. That there was hope for him to lead a good life, full of laughter and love. Who was he to her anyway? Just a lonely, surly professor with a marked past, when she had been raised to be a Queen. 

His bitterness intensified when he realized how she had fooled him, how she had made him actually believe it for a while. Why, she and Voldemort were probably having a good laugh over it right now.

And then, she apparated into view, in the exact spot from which she had departed earlier. 

*********************

When she was finished vomiting, Addy took the handkerchief gratefully from his hand and wiped her face. She smiled up at him. "How long have I been gone?" she asked.

"You don't know?"

"No, you know what it's like in Voldemort's Throne Room," she responded, wiping the bleariness from her eyes.

"About three hours," he said. Addy thought his voice sounded different somehow, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"You waited here all that time?" she asked, a grateful smile lighting up her face. She again had the urge to throw her arms around him.

"I had a lot of thinking to do."

"Oh?" she said. Then she noticed that he was looking at her strangely too, his eyes shining like two black, steel marbles. There was an awkward silence, during which he just stood there, stiffly leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed in front of him, studying her. Finally she said, "So, can we go back now? I'm knackered, and I really need a shower."

"Mmmmm, I'll _bet _you do," he responded coldly, without moving.

"What's wrong, Snape?" she asked kindly, frowning. She was sure now that something was on his mind.

"What did you and Voldemort talk about?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Nothing much. I'll tell you about it on the walk back to the castle."

"Why don't you tell me about it now." It wasn't a question.

Addy was starting to get peevish about the way he was speaking to her. He certainly had been an enormous help this evening, and she didn't know how she would have made it to Voldemort without him. But his tone now was not just cold, it was downright insinuating. 

Her headache was intensifying, but she sighed and said, "He asked me about Hogwarts and Dumbledore and you and Harry. Then he confirmed that his plans were still on for the 'Underground Project' in two weeks." She heard a snort escape from him, and looked up sharply at him, perplexed. But she continued, "Then my father came in and wanted me to visit with him for a while, but Voldemort sent me home instead."

"Home?" he asked her.

"Yes, here." she said, suddenly self-conscious. "Home."

Snape said nothing, but continued scrutinizing her. Addy was bewildered. She didn't know what had come over him, but she was exhausted and was getting to the point where she'd had enough of this.

"Well, I'm going back to the castle now. Why don't you come with me?" she asked, offering him a friendly smile.

When he still didn't respond, she shrugged her shoulders and headed for the gate. As she passed him, he suddenly grabbed her upper arms roughly and said, "What did you tell Voldemort???" His eyes blazed behind a storm cloud of suspicion, and Addy was, for the first time, afraid of him.

"Ow, you're hurting me! I told you already!"

"Three hours and that's _all _you discussed? I find that hard to believe."

"Well, believe it. Most of the time he just sat there, petting my head. He even scratched me—see for yourself!" Addy bent her head down and turned it to the side as far as it would go, to show him the blood that had dried on the back of her neck. Snape didn't even look at it, but took one hand and grabbed her tightly by the jaw, turning her face back to his, and peering into her eyes.

"Snape! What's got into you?!?" she cried, wrenching her head free from his grasp. He still clutched her left arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

"What did you tell him about me?" he hissed.

Now, Addy was getting mad. She couldn't imagine what he was thinking, but she knew she did not deserve this interrogation.

"If you must know, I told him I thought you were a bore!" she snapped back.

"What are you up to Adelaide? I will find out, you know! Perhaps a little Veritaserum will reveal the truth!" he threatened.

"If that's what you need, then FINE! Why don't we go back right now and you can mix me up one of your infamous cocktails!" she shouted back, defiantly.

"If you told him anything about the Order…" his voice trailed off menacingly.

"Oh!" said Addy, her voice reeking of sarcasm. "You mean I _wasn't _supposed to tell Voldemort about _our _plans to thwart _his _plans? Darn, I guess I wasn't really clear on that part!" she sneered.

"If you think this is all some sort of a joke…" he threatened.

"The only thing that's a joke is your behavior right now, and it's not very funny. I don't know what's come over you, but I do wish you'd come right out and tell me what you're thinking," she answered.

His eyes gleamed obsessively. He growled in a low baritone, slowly into her face, "You don't have a Dark Mark, do you?" 

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Snape!" Addy yelled back, utterly exasperated. "We've been over this already, haven't we???"

"YOU DON"T HAVE ONE!"

"Can we please go back to the castle now? " Addy was growing weary, and she truly did not have the strength to go through _this_ all over again.

"If you have one, where is it? WHERE IS IT???" He grabbed her other arm again and began shaking her violently now, his voice seething with derangement. The force of his grip had lifted her off the ground, and her feet kicked at the air beneath her.

"Let me go! I can't tell you! Let me go!" she cried, in fear and despair, struggling to free herself from his hold.

"Why not?" he questioned, his face inches from hers. "VOLDEMORT'S ORDERS ?!?"

Addy gasped aloud. 

She ceased struggling and went limp in his hands, her eyes locked on his. Her mouth hung open and she looked as though she'd been slapped. 

Snape peered intently at her, the clenched muscles of his jaw working visibly beneath the skin.  He searched Addy's soul for the signs of guilt he was sure he would see. But, as he gazed deep into her eyes, he saw something else there instead. He saw a terrible grief wash over her, and a pain that was far worse than any of the misery he'd seen when Voldemort had called her. 

Then he saw the tears well up. She blinked them back valiantly, but she could not blink away her fathomless sorrow.

Snape straightened abruptly and shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. That look in her eyes had somehow managed to penetrate the cloud of madness that had descended on his brain, causing it to dissipate. He suddenly realized he was holding her about three inches off the ground, and gently lowered her until her feet touched the earth.

Addy just stood there, blinking, looking up at him as if her heart had been broken in two. 

Then she spoke, in a voice that was disturbingly calm and quiet. "No. I don't take orders from him anymore. I did a good job tonight, Snape. I didn't tell him anything. I would _never _do anything to betray Dumbledore…or the Order…or you. _Ever_." With the force of that last word, a single tear overflowed and trailed down her left cheek. "I wish…I wish you could…" her voice trailed off, overcome with heartache.

Snape shook his head a second time to fully clear it, and let go of her arms. He put a hand to his forehead, wondering if some dark magic hadn't overcome him. Could this have been Voldemort's work?

But he knew it was not Voldemort. He had done it to himself. It had been his own mind that had deceived him, not Addy, not Voldemort. His own mind, which had been so corrupted back in his Death Eater days that he wondered if he would ever really be free of the fear and mistrust and self-doubt—that demonic Voice that haunted him. He knew the mind was a powerful thing, but he was ashamed that he had been so easily misled by it, so quick to believe that the world was full of enemies, and that Addy's intentions could only have been nefarious. 

He looked back down at Addy and saw in her eyes the damage he'd done. He wanted to reverse time, to go back and do it all over again. He would have taken her arm gently in his and walked her back to the castle. He would have smelled her jasmine scent as the lovely summer breeze rustled through her hair. He would have looked after her, and helped her recoup from the ordeal of her visit. 

But now, gazing down at her, he knew he had destroyed that opportunity, perhaps for good.

"Addy…" he said, running a hand through is hair.

"Can we go back now?" she said, quietly.

"I don't … I… I'm…" his voice trailed off. He wanted to explain, to take back all the monstrous things he'd said and the hurt he'd inflicted, but he simply didn't know how.

"Please, Snape," she implored sadly, another tear tumbling forward before she quickly brushed it off and turned away from him.

"Yes, of course," he said softly. He opened the gate for her and she stepped past him tentatively, her head down. They crossed the lawn in silence, Snape struggling to think of what he could possibly say to undo what he had done. 

He led the way through the tunnel, but when he turned back to take her hand, she recoiled instinctively, hurt and fear shining in her wet eyes. He hung his head and continued guiding her through the corridors, until they stood in the vast, main entrance hall.

Staring at the ground, Addy said quietly, "Thank you for showing me the way." 

She longed to say more--something that would convince him once and for all that she hadn't lied to him tonight, that she was truly one of them now, and that she would sooner die or, worse, subject herself to Voldemort's tortures, than do _anything_ to harm him. But she couldn't imagine what she could possibly say or do that would make him believe her. There would always be that trace of mistrust in his eyes, and she would always have to wonder if he saw her as herself, or simply as Iscarious Jones' Death Eater daughter. There was obviously no hope of convincing him, deep down, otherwise. 

She turned and walked away from him, crossing to the opposite side of the Hall. Snape stared after her as she slowly ascended one of the staircases and disappeared down a dark hallway. When he could no longer hear her footsteps in the quiet night castle, the words finally came to him. 

"Forgive me," he whispered, regret choking his voice. "I am so sorry."  Turning back to his cold and lonely room, he spoke into the silent air, "Good night, Adelaide." 

To be continued…


	16. Chapter 16: Someone To Lean On

Chapter 16: Someone to Lean On

Addy entered her chambers, tears flowing down her face. She wanted to collapse into her bed fully clothed and escape into a dreamless sleep that would rescue her from the pain and sorrow of the past few hours. But she could still smell Voldemort's sickening stench on her robes and in her hair, and the repulsive sensation of his skin lingered on her hands. She also knew she should attend to the scratches on her head. Earlier, she'd harbored hopes that Snape might help her with them, but that was nothing more than an absurd fantasy now.

She disrobed and stepped into the bathroom, turning the shower jets on as hot as she could take them. She scrubbed at herself vigorously, angrily, hoping to wash away the night. Multi-colored bruises were blooming on her arms where Snape had grabbed her and she childishly scoured at them too. Her tears mixed with the water from the tap, and she howled in anguish, hugging herself. 

She breathed in the hot steam that swirled around her face, the sound of Snape's accusations ringing in her ears. No amount of water could rinse that sound from her memory.

Before stepping out of the shower, she reopened the wounds on her head and irrigated them painfully, not wanting to think about what an infection from one of Voldemort's scratches might do. The blood pooled at her feet and she watched in morbid fascination as it swirled down the drain. 

She stood transfixed by the sight for a long while, contemplating the release of this blood—this stuff from inside her. She wished there was some way to release everything else from inside her too--the bitterness about the choices that had been foisted on her by her father…the impossible longing for Snape's trust…the self-loathing that drummed away inside her, demanding to be heard. She dreamed of emptying herself of all this torment that coursed through her, until she was a hollow shell, untouched by the convictions and caprices of any other being, and immune, even, to the voices in her own head.

Finally, she snapped out of her trance, turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, avoiding the mirror. Her insides felt like an empty, aching pit, as though something was missing that was supposed to be there. But at least she felt clean again.

For a second, she considered dressing and going down to Snape's chambers, intent on setting the record straight. But she quickly dismissed the thought. '_What's the point?_' she thought. '_Why should anyone trust you, least of all Snape? You're Iscarious Jones' daughter, and you always will be. Nothing can change that_.'

She put on a set of black linen pajamas and attempted to check the back of her head in the mirror. Retrieving a few ingredients from her cabinet, she mixed a plaster of taro root and unicorn hoof, and applied it roughly to the scratches. Although it smarted badly and she was alone in her bathroom, she would not permit herself to cry any further, or even wince. Then she retrieved her wand and tried to seal each wound with the tip, while repeating the incantation, "Medicorium."

When she was finished, she laid down in her bed, staring out the window into the starlit sky. The moon was three-quarters full, and she remembered that she had wanted to check in on Remus earlier that night.

Sleep would not come, and Addy's eyes remained wide open, her mind flooding with the scenes and sensations of the day. The sight of Snape holding a corner of her robe to his face…Neville offering his fearful explanation to Dumbledore…the memory of her father returning from the Longbottom household…the aroma of Snape as he leaned over her chair…the feel of his thumbs caressing her palms…his soulful expression when she'd said goodbye to him at the gate…the familiar yet melancholy ring of Nagini's voice…the insanity in Voldemort's grin…the glimmer in her father's eyes…and the loathing in Snape's eyes, and his hot breath in her face, as he accused her of betraying him to Voldemort.

The torturous images roiled in her mind, keeping the sweet release of slumber at bay, until Addy thought she might go mad. She sat up abruptly, rubbing her face, then threw on a night robe and grabbed her wand, heading out the door.

She whispered, "Lumos," and her wand emanated a faint glow, enough to light her way through the corridors. Without a destination, she wandered briskly, at times breaking into a run, as though she could out-distance the memories. At length, she found herself at the foot of the stairs that led to the East Tower. She gazed up the dark stairway, wondering if some fresh air could help drive these demons from her mind.

At the top of the stairs she opened the door to the flat roof of the Tower and stepped into the moonlit freshness of the night, extinguishing her wand. She breathed in deeply, trying to fill the emptiness inside her with something good, something pure. 

Suddenly, she detected movement ahead of her. In the dim light, she could make out a person leaning on one of the parapets that surrounded the roof, gazing out over the grounds.

"Who's there?" she cried, her wand outstretched.

The figure turned around, and the bluish glow of moonlight illuminated the weary face of Remus Lupin. Addy sighed with relief and pocketed her wand. 

"Oh, Remus, it's you. What are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep," Remus said, giving her a sad little smile. "You either?"

"Nope," she replied, joining him at the edge of the roof with a sad shake of her head. 

Addy said, "I was thinking about you at dinner. I meant to visit you this evening, but I got called by Voldemort and only returned a short while ago. I figured it was too late to disturb you."

"You should know it's never too late," he responded. "I don't sleep much, especially when the moon is this bright."

Addy looked up at the sky, with it's big, white light shining placidly down on them, and nodded with understanding. "When will you go to the…Shouting Shack, did you call it?"

"The Shrieking Shack. Probably tomorrow night, after dinner. I don't like to take chances."

They sat down on the roof side by side, their backs against the stone battlement, each lost in their own world of thoughtful silence for a while.

"Did you say you'd gone to Voldemort tonight?" Remus asked, his voice a mix of surprise and concern.

"Yes, he called me during my strategy session with Snape." Her voice cracked a bit and Remus looked over at her. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. He kept me there for about three hours. My father wanted me to stay longer but Voldemort sent me back." She was staring at the ground in front of her, and he thought he could feel her trembling ever so slightly.

Remus shifted his body so that he faced her and leaned in to get a good look at her face. "Addy, did Voldemort hurt you?"

"No, not really," she replied in a dead voice, still looking down between her knees. 

Remus wanted to ask what "not really" meant, but he was unsure how much he should press her. So he just gave her shoulder a little squeeze and said, "Addy, anytime you want to talk…about anything…you can always come see me." Then he gave her a little nudge and said with a sheepish grin, "Well, not for the next few days, of course, unless you've got a deathwish." 

Addy looked up at him with pain and confusion in her eyes. "Don't you want to know what Voldemort asked me? What I told him?"

He shrugged. "Only if you want to talk about it." She continued staring at him apprehensively, so he added, "It's ok…I trust you."

Addy searched his eyes for a sign of doubt or skepticism. When she didn't find any, her lower lip began to quiver. She reached out a hand and placed it on his cheek. "Thank you Remus. You have no idea how much that means to me." With that, the tears overtook her and she started to cry, burying her face in her hands.

"Hey…hey…what's wrong now?" he said, his hand still resting on her shaking shoulders.

"Oh, Remus. Will it _ever_ be over?" she cried, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes under wet lashes, her face streaked with tears. She looked so sad and tired.

"Yes, Addy it will. I believe it will," he said, tenderly wiping away the drops running down her cheeks with the backs of his fingers. "We're getting closer every day."

The sobs once again wracked her body, and she curled up, her arms covering her face and her hands covering her head, as if to shield herself from a terrible blow. Remus realized that she must be beyond exhaustion, and tentatively put a comforting arm around her shoulder. Addy took it as an invitation, and leaned in to him, burying her head against his chest.

He immediately tensed up with the memory of his dream, uneasy with her at such close proximity, in such an obviously vulnerable state. He glanced up nervously at the moon.

But she was so clearly in need of compassion and comfort that he couldn't refuse her. He put his arms around her, cautiously at first. But when he felt her respond he soon relaxed into the rhythm of stroking her hair, saying, "That's it. It's all right. You must be exhausted. It's ok. Everything's going to be ok." He rested his chin on top of her head, pressing her to him and rocking her gently. He was overcome with a great desire to protect her from harm, from all bad feelings, from any kind of pain whatsoever. 

Soon, Addy stopped shaking and her sobs died down, first to whimpers and then mere sniffles. But she made no move to separate herself from his embrace. Without looking up, she said in a muffled voice, "I'm sorrry, Remus."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he replied, gently, still stroking her hair.

"You must be sick of coming to my rescue."

Remus chuckled and whispered, "Addy, I'll let you in on a little secret. No man ever gets sick of that. It makes us feel important." The choked, throaty laugh that came from the figure resting in his arms brought a gratified smile to his face. 

He looked down at the top of her head, enchanted by the way her curls swirled in random, chaotic patterns. Her hair sparkled, glistening as it caught the moonlight. 

But wait…Remus bent down for a closer inspection, and saw that it wasn't just her hair that was shining—there was something wet in it. To his horror, he suddenly realized that it was blood. He held his hand up to the light and saw that it was stained red.

Scrambling backwards away from her, his eyes wild with terror, he said, "Addy, you're bleeding. I…I didn't do anything!"

Addy looked up at him and touched the back of her neck, feeling the sticky wetness there. 

"Remus, it's ok. It's from Voldemort. He scratched me. I tried to seal the wounds but they must have opened up."

She wasn't sure if he'd even heard her. He was looking back and forth frantically from his hand to her face, repeating the words, "I didn't do anything!" She crawled over to him and had to lunge at him, grabbing hold of his ankle, when he tried to back further away from her. 

"Remus! Of course you didn't do anything! They're scratches from Voldemort!"

"From Voldemort?" he said, her words finally reaching him.

"Yes…he scratched me when I was at The Compound. He was petting my head and scratched me. I tried to seal them myself but the wounds must have opened up again."

"Voldemort did this?" he said, holding up his blood-stained hand. He no longer seemed panicked, but a look of dark fury was brewing behind his eyes.

"He was talking about Harry and got carried away," she said soothingly. Then she added, with a shrug and an sheepish look, "He likes to pet my head. Don't worry, the wounds aren't nearly as bad as they look."

She had managed to crawl up next to him, the way they'd been before, and took hold of his arm, draping it over her shoulder to show him that she was not afraid of him. 

He sighed and gave her an embarrassed look. "I'm sorry I panicked. It's just that I saw the blood and I… I…" his voice trailed off. 

"How are things with you, Remus?" she asked, peering at him through narrowed eyes.

"I'm fine, Addy. Fine," he said, sounding noticeably relieved and more like himself again. "It's just that, believe it or not, I really don't care for the sight of blood. Isn't that a joke?" he said, with a tight laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

She leaned her head against him and laced her fingers in the hand that was around her shoulder, sitting quietly for a few minutes. When she sensed that they had both relaxed again, she said, "You know, this friendship things works two ways. You allow me to sit here, bawling like a baby in your arms, and every time I'm about to fall apart you help put me back together again. Yet you won't even return the favor by telling me what's bothering you. That's not very friendly, you know."

He looked away and rubbed the stubble on his jaw. "I've been having nightmares. How do you like that? I'm the stuff of nightmares, but they still get to me."

"Remus, you are NOT the stuff of nightmares."

He looked down at her fondly. "You really should have Poppy look at those scratches, you know," he said, avoiding the point she'd been making. What could he tell her, anyway? That he desperately wanted to kiss her but was afraid he would rip her to shreds? Hardly.

"I can't," she replied, looking up at him. "She'll ask me how I got them, and I can't tell her."

Remus nodded with comprehension. "Well, if you want, I can take a look at them. As you might guess, I've got quite a bit of experience with healing scratches." He smiled sadly.

She studied him carefully for a few moments, and then said, "And here I am, asking _you_ when this will all be over. When will it be over for you, Remus?"

He shrugged and looked away again, staring off into the night sky. "Severus seems to be making good progress on the curative potion. If anyone can do it, he can."

Addy simply said, "Mmmmm."

"It's just that it gets lonely, sometimes. I don't relish the thought of spending another moon in that decrepit old hut. Thank Merlin I've got Sirius to keep me company, but still…it's difficult…it makes it difficult to get close to people."

"Well, we're here now. And I'll be here when you return," she said, giving his hand a little squeeze.

"I'm glad I'll be back in time for the next staff meeting. I'd hate to think I couldn't hold up my end of things," he said with determination in his voice.

"I wish I could visit you in the Shrieking Shack," she sighed, already wondering what she'd do with him gone.

"Don't even think about it, Addy," he replied sternly, wagging a finger in her face. "But thank you," he said, his voice softening, as he tightened his arm around her.

"If there's ever anything I can do…" she said, returning his gaze.

"You've done it, Addy. You're doing it right now.

She smiled at him, her eyelids starting to droop, and then a sudden yawn overcame her. He said, "I've got some dreamless draught in my quarters. Why don't we go take a look at those wounds, and then let's see if we can't get you at least a few hours of sleep before your first day of classes?"

She nodded and they stood up. They walked back down the tower steps and through the hallways to Remus' room. He beckoned her into a chair and gently ran his hands through her hair, inspecting the scratches. 

"What's this stuff on them?" he asked. 

"That's one of my homemade remedies. Taro root and unicorn hoof."

"Taro root? Never heard of it."

"It's like a potato. It helps draw out toxins. The Muggles use it in India."

"Interesting…" he noted.

He tenderly wiped away the fresh blood and then took out his wand, performing the same "Medicorium" incantation as Addy had earlier. Thanks to his vantage point, though, he was able to seal the wounds more effectively.

"They shouldn't give you anymore trouble, but if they do, we should go see Snape about them. I'd feel better if Poppy looked at them, but I guess that's out of the question. Has Severus seen them yet?"

Addy nodded, avoiding his eyes. "Yes, I showed them to him," she responded truthfully.

"And what did he say?" Remus inquired.

"Nothing," she replied.

Remus frowned, but shrugged it off. Snape must not have thought they were very serious. "Well, now for some dreamless draught for both of us." He rummaged around a cabinet for a few seconds and pulled out two vials of a transparent, cobalt liquid. "I'll walk you back to your room and then you can take this."

"Oh, Remus, that's awfully nice of you, but I can find the way on my own. You probably want to try to get some sleep yourself," Addy said.

"Nonsense. We don't need you running into Peeves all by yourself tonight. I've seen the way he leers at you," he said, with a wink.

Addy smiled and they set off for her room. When they got to her door, she turned to face him, and he handed her the vial.

"I've only been here three days, and already I owe you so much. How can I ever repay you for all you've done for me?"

He smiled warmly at her and started to say, "Is that all it's been? Three days?" when she cut him off by throwing her arms around him and giving him a tight hug. He stopped talking and returned the embrace, burying his face in her hair. It felt so good.

"Good night, Remus," she whispered into his hair, and, placing her right hand softly on the side of his face, she gave him a long kiss on the other cheek.

Then she withdrew, and, with a little wave, disappeared behind her door.

Remus watched the door close, then turned and walked back to his own room.

To be continued…


	17. Chapter 17: Sound and Fury

Author's Note: this is a long one…enjoy! And many, many thanks to all of you who have reviewed…it's very encouraging, and really keeps me going when it gets tough. --Gwenn

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Chapter 17: Sound and Fury

Addy heard the continuous patter of raindrops against her window and smelled the earthy dampness that infused the castle air before she opened her eyes. The rain had been falling steadily since just before dawn, but her soft white cotton blanket was draped over her, smelling of sunshine and summer breezes. She burrowed further into the embrace of the down mattress and pillows beneath her. 

The dreamless draught Remus had given her had worked wonders. For a brief moment, she lingered blissfully between states of consciousness, awake yet unfettered by the weights and worries of everyday life. 

In the blink of an eye, however, full consciousness descended on her and with it came the unhappy memories of the previous night, driving the sleepy smile from her face. She scowled and turned onto her side, pulling the blanket over her head. 

"Wake up dear, you've only got half an hour to get ready for breakfast," came a cheery, maternal voice from the clock on her bedside table.

"I'm not going to breakfast. I can sleep an extra hour and go straight to classes," Addy mumbled.

"Sorry, dear," the clock said sympathetically, "but Dumbledore insists that all his Professors show up for breakfast, on time and in tip-top condition. So, let's get you out of bed now. According to Mirror, you're going to need every minute to pull yourself together this morning."

"Thanks a lot, Mirror," Addy grumbled.

"Don't blame me," huffed the mirror with indignation. "I don't create the truth…I merely reflect it."

Addy remained under the covers, and in another minute, the voice trilled out of the clock again.

"Adelaide…you're really going to have to get up now. Only 27 minutes and not a second to spare."

"I told you, I'm not going."

"Oh, yes you are, dear."

"Oh no I'm not."

"Oh yes…you are." Madame Clock did not sound quite so cheery that time.

Addy continued to ignore her "alarm" and remained ensconced in her bed. She had just about dozed off again, when a piercing whistle blasted out of the clock, causing her to cry out and throw her hands over her ears. 

"All right troops!" roared the clock. "Once more unto the breach!!!"

At the sound of Clock's command, the white cotton blanket whisked itself sharply into the air, folding itself with arithmetic precision above Addy's head and placing itself neatly in the trunk at the foot of her bed, which politely opened and closed for it. The window sash flew wide open, letting in a splash of raindrops. The pillows shrugged Addy off and hovered over her head, fluffing themselves as a smattering of feathers sprinkled down on her. They then followed the blanket into the trunk. The doors of her wardrobe opened and out floated a fresh set of school robes. In the bathroom, she heard the shower turn on, as her shoes came clop-clopping over to the side of her bed.

Addy leaned on her elbows, surveying the subversive items in her room with a dark, surly look, before grudgingly rising out of bed. She looked out the window at the steadfast rain falling on a gray day, then slipped out of her pajamas and stepped into the shower.

She stood there letting the warm water splash into her face and was just starting to wake up, when the shower turned itself off and an enormous fluffy towel floated over to her.

"All right, all right, I'm working on it. You can call off the assault," she grumbled.

In a few minutes she was dried and dressed, her hair in a particularly wild mood thanks to the moisture in the air. She sat on the edge of her bed, fully clothed, staring at the door to her room. She knew that in a minute or two, she would have to walk through that door and head to the Dining Hall, where she would have to sit next to Snape for the duration of breakfast. 

Deep, calming breaths were doing nothing to clear her mind of the visions of the previous night. The wind had whipped up and behind her the rain batted away against the castle. She thought about her old hut, far beyond those rain clouds off to the east, and remembered the monsoon seasons they had survived—days and days of driving wind and rain spent huddled indoors, with Addy and her mother anxiously hoping the storms would soften the earth for a good planting season, while her father seesawed between dark, moody silences and crazed rants.

She wondered what had become of her garden, hoping that a new occupant had kept it up, and that the rains would be good for them this year. And then she thought about her old teacher, Dharani. Addy found herself wishing that Dharani was there right now with her—_she _would know what to do about Snape.

There was no one that she felt she could talk to about it at Hogwarts. Everyone had their own problems—more important ones at that--and they would probably just tell her not to worry about Snape…that he'd get over it. They hadn't seen the loathing in his eyes, nor heard the unforgiving hatred in his voice, as he'd hissed into her face:

"Why not? VOLDEMORT'S ORDERS?!?"

Anyway, what did it matter what Snape thought? She had other friends here at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore believed in her, and she was doing good work. But it did matter to Addy. For some damn, inexplicable reason, she wanted him to believe her more than anyone, with the possible exception of her Headmaster.

And, Clock had been right—Dumbledore was expecting her at breakfast, and she was resolved to fulfill her professional obligations. So, her stomach clenched with a mixture of dread and determination, she slapped her hands on her knees and stood up, crossing the room and stepping out the door. Before leaving, she turned back to face her room and said, "Thanks, everyone." The window closed itself softly in acknowledgment. 

Her own corridor was empty, but she could hear the nearby thunder of the daily stampede to the Dining Hall, and as she rounded the corner she was swept up in the herd. She was one of the last staff members to arrive, which meant that Snape and Sprout were already seated on either side of her empty chair. Snape looked up at her expectantly when she entered the Dining Hall, noticing with a pang of guilt that her eyes were still a bit red and puffy. 

He was, perhaps, unaware that he himself looked tired and perhaps a bit…distracted. But Addy noticed. '_Probably up all night wondering how to convince Dumbledore to get rid of me_,' she thought miserably.

Addy seated herself, avoiding his gaze, and stared down at her empty plate. When Professor Sprout tried to make friendly conversation, Addy's polite but curt answers of "yes", "no" and "fine" sent the message that she wasn't in a talkative mood. '_Not a morning person, I guess_," Sprout thought to herself, and let Addy be for the rest of the meal.

After Dumbledore made some brief opening remarks, the platters once again sprang to life with mountains of food. Addy distractedly piled her plate high, then spent the rest of the time pushing the food around with her fork. She tried to eat but found that she just couldn't bring herself to swallow a bite. Of course, she was painfully aware of the silent wizard to her right, and avoided any sort of contact at all costs. The tinkle of his silverware hit her ears like the clanking of swords in battle, and she prayed for a swift end to the meal.

Snape could sense when he was persona non grata even from subtle hints, but this morning Addy might as well have walked into the Dining Hall wearing a sandwich board that read "Never speak to me again, Severus Snape." This wasn't the time or place for a scene, and the students ought not even witness them in conversation, so he kept to himself and did not bother her. Still, he was already aware of her stubborn streak and began to worry about how long she could hold a grudge before forgiving him for the previous night. And then he remembered: he still had not, technically, apologized to her. Well, not in so many words. Clearly, he was going to be forced to use…so many words.

He had indeed been up all night, thinking of what to say and how to approach her. He was not a man accustomed to admitting when he was wrong, and, in truth, he very rarely was. But the look in her eyes the night before still haunted him and he knew he had to make this right…somehow. He'd never seen anyone look at him like that before. '_Probably because no one's ever cared about you the way she does, you fool_,' he reprimanded himself, '_so you'd better figure out a way to fix this mess you've created_.'

When Dumbledore finally dismissed the students, no sooner had he finished speaking, than Addy stood up to leave. Snape grabbed her arm discreetly, leaning over to her, and speaking in an undertone.

"Addy, I must speak with you—"

Addy cut him off with, "Excuse me, I have to go," wriggling her arm out of his grasp, and nearly running down the center aisle of Hall. She was in no mood for further accusations this morning.

Dumbledore watched her leave, assuming that she was eager to get to her first class…until he looked over at Snape. He saw his Potions Master take a deep breath and exhale, closing his eyes, a look of strain across his face. He touched his forefinger to the bridge of his brow for just a second, then stood up abruptly and stalked off through the staff exit at the back of the Hall, without a word to anyone. It was nothing the Headmaster hadn't seen Snape do a thousand times, yet there was a quality to that sigh that told him something was not quite right.

*************************

Addy stood at the front of her classroom as her class filed in—Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Fourth Years. '_At least the students will help keep my mind off things_,' she thought to herself, as their excited chatter turned to groans of dismay at the sight of her classroom. 

Each desk was piled high with assignments, and sported the neatly lettered name of a student in pre-planned seating appointments. The children stared in horrified wonder around the room, every inch of which was covered in foreign looking notes, dense signs, archaic diagrams, and moving models. Everyone avoided the realistic facsimile of the troll family in the corner, stealing nervous glances at it as they found their designated seats. Addy remained unmoved and grim-faced at the front of the room, tapping her wand against her hand as they settled in.

"Welcome, class," she said softly, wearing an austere expression. "My name is Professor Mayhem, and we'll be working on Defense Against the Dark Arts together this year."

She said nothing else for the next five minutes, as she circled around to the back of her desk, removing three items from her drawer and placing them where everyone could see. When she was done, she simply leaned over her desk, studying the students as they grew uncomfortable with the strange, prolonged hush and her scrutinizing stare. Five minutes of silence was equal to an eternity in the minds of teenagers, and Addy knew it. 

The sounds of nervous coughs and bottoms shifting in seats began to fill the room. Addy pulled a small pocket watch from her robe, flicked it open and watched the last thirty seconds tick by, then finally said, in her calm, quiet tone, "OK, let's begin."

With that, she picked up her wand and, with a grand, sweeping gesture, waved it over the class, dramatically declaring, "Visio Terminem!" 

At the sound of her incantation, black blindfolds wrapped themselves around the eyes of each Fourth Year, hurling them into darkness. The room erupted in shouts as the students tried to free themselves of the enchantment.

Addy picked up an enormous tome of a textbook and dropped it on the ground with a deafening thud. "SILENCE!" she roared, and the room went instantly still. "They are just blindfolds, they will not hurt you. This is your first exercise in Defense: the Power of Observation."

She began shooting questions at the students, calling each one by the surnames she had memorized the previous day. 

"MacHume, what color robes am I wearing?"

Poor Terry MacHume, the first Gryffindor get pick on, searched his mind, trying to remember. Finally he guessed, "Um, black?" 

"Wrong, purple. Ten points from Gryffindor," Addy pronounced serenely.

"Zephyr, how many windows are in this classroom?"

Antonio Zephyr, a quiet, dark-haired Ravenclaw with few friends, turned his face toward the sound of the rain coming from his left. "Five?" he replied.

"No, there are four. I thought I saw you staring out them before we began. Ten points from Ravenclaw."

"Manning, do I hold my wand in my left hand or my right?"

"Er, your right!" cried Portia Manning , a Ravenclaw from a long line of esteemed wizarding families.

"Tsk, tsk. Too bad, Manning. You had a fifty-fifty chance. Fifteen points from Ravenclaw."

The groans mounted as Addy's rapid fire questioning continued, growing more and more difficult. The students had lost more points than they could count, and it was only their first class of the year.

"Crisp, what type of ring am I wearing?"

Aidan Crisp tried to picture their new professor, but had only a fuzzy impression of her. If she was wearing purple robes, he deduced, perhaps she was wearing a ring to match. "Amethyst?" he guessed.

"No. I'm not wearing any rings. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Crisp buried his head in his hands.

The questioning ensued for the next thirty minutes, until the students were nearly exhausted and utterly demoralized. 

Finally, Addy turned on Ginny Weasly and said, with bald disdain, "Weasly, name one…_just one_…of the items on my desk."

Ginny's brain had turned to stone. Even if she could have pictured the room in her mind's eye at the start of class, by this point all she could think about were how many points the class had lost for Gryffindor, and how on earth she was going to explain this to her brothers. Her only salvation was that Ron had a class with Professor Mayhem later in the day, and she hoped he would see for himself what a terror she was.

"I can't, Professor," answered Ginny, glumly.

"Not even one?" said Addy.

"No. I'm sorry Professor, I don't know."

Addy sighed. "Well, at least someone had the courage to speak the truth. The rest of you seem to believe that you can just _guess_ your way out of a sticky situation. I will only deduct five points from Gryffindor for your answer, Miss Weasly."

"_Oh, great_," thought Ginny, sullenly. "_I can boast to Fred and George that I _only_ lost five points for our House_."

The class finally heard their professor declare, "That's enough!" With a wave of her wand and another shout of "Visio Revertorem," the blindfolds disappeared, leaving the students blinking and squinting into the gray daylight of the room. Addy stood in front of her desk, her arms crossed in front of her. 

They could hear the disgust in her voice as she shook her head and said, "Pathetic." She began to pace up and down the aisles, launching into a passionate lecture.

"For five minutes you sat here, with nothing to do but observe your surroundings, and yet not one of you could correctly identify a single element of this room. Not ONE!" she intoned. "Do you think you can learn to defend yourself against dark magic from a book alone? Rest assured, there will be plenty of time for texts and notes in the coming weeks. But before you can learn anything, you must understand the power of your most potent resources—your own senses. At times, you will find that they are all you have to rely on."

She harangued the students for several more minutes until it was almost time for the bell to ring, signifying the end of class. She finished with their homework assignment:

"For the next class, you will write an essay describing this classroom in the greatest detail possible. Hopefully, as you've been listening to me, you have also been exercising your powers of observation."

The students, who naturally had been doing nothing but gaping at her, suddenly began to look frantically around the room trying to memorize everything they could in the few seconds remaining. Addy continued:

"Obviously, this room will remain locked between classes. I expect your papers to include aspects of sight, sound, and smell. You should also describe your thoughts and feelings during this lesson—awareness of self is as important as an awareness of one's environment. Proper spelling and grammar are expected as baseline components of your work, but points will be awarded for thoroughness and detail. I expect no less than nine sheaths of parchment from each of you," she concluded, with a baneful smirk.

The bell knocked the senses back into the numb, wide-eyed class, and they wearily picked up their school bags and filed out the door. As they were leaving, Addy called, "Have a nice day." 

'_That went rather well_,' she thought to herself.

Just then, she overheard a student say, "I think she's even worse than Snape!" 

Addy's heart leapt with excitement and for a moment she eagerly looked forward to telling Snape what she'd heard. Then she remembered that she wasn't speaking to him. She sighed and turned to prepare the room for the next round of students.

*************************************

It was the exact same drill with the Fourth Year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, although Addy made sure to give easy questions to the children whom she knew belonged to Death Eater families. Even with her help, only one student—Salomon Pugh of all people—was able to answer correctly after Addy had struggled to come up with a question as simple as, "What type of weather are we having today?" The downpour could be plainly heard against the windowpanes, yet Addy breathed a sigh of relief and awarded 25 points to Slytherin when Pugh, at long length, answered "Rainy!" with a triumphant shout. Young Salomon looked as though he believed himself worthy of an Order of Merlin medallion.

Following her second class, Addy had about an hour and a half of free time before lunch. She headed up to Dumbledore's office to report on her visit with Voldemort.

When she arrived at the stone gargoyle that guarded Albus' office, she inquired politely if she might have a word with the Headmaster. She saw the eyes of the statue roll back in its head with a gravelly rumble. A few seconds later, it sprang aside and Addy rode nervously up the spiral staircase.

His office smelled of fresh cinnamon buns, and the teeming resonance of a cello piece by the Muggle composer Johann Bach softly filled the air. Dumbledore was standing at the door to greet Addy when she arrived. He placed a warm, welcoming hand on her shoulder, asking enthusiastically, "How were your morning classes?"

"Splendid, Headmaster. Thank you for asking." 

"Addy, please do try to call me Albus."

"Sorry…Albus."

Then she remembered the treats she'd saved from breakfast for Fawkes, and pulled them out of her pocket, gesturing in the direction of his perch. "May I?"

"Be my guest," replied the old wizard, seating himself behind his desk. "Fawkes could use a treat today."

Addy turned to greet the Phoenix, but when she saw him, she looked sadly back at Dumbledore. The glorious color of Fawkes' feathers was noticeably faded, and he slumped on his perch, his tail feathers sagging. "Oh Fawkes, it looks like you'll be leaving us for a while soon."

A wizened gleam shone in the bird's eye as it turned its head sideways to her and trilled a soft salutation. Addy helped him mount her arm and sat down in one of the enormous leather chairs, stroking his now coarse feathers. Dumbledore noticed that she seemed to be on the verge of tears, and he watched attentively as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. For Addy, it was all getting to be just a bit too much—Snape turning on her, Lupin leaving for the Shrieking Shack, and now Fawkes...

"Is something wrong, Adelaide?" Albus asked, interlacing his fingers.

"No. It's nothing," she replied, recovering her composure. "Voldemort called me last night."

"Oh?" he said, unfazed.

Addy recounted every detail of her visit to The Compound, smiling up shyly at the Headmaster when she got to the part about saying he was just a weak old wizard. Dumbledore chuckled and waved away her embarrassment. She even told him how her father had awakened in her a nostalgic feeling of affection, and when she glanced uncertainly in his direction, the Headmaster nodded his understanding. She finished the tale with her return to the Hogwarts grounds. Addy was reluctant to share the falling out between Snape and herself. She knew that Dumbledore had enough on his mind, and didn't need to be troubled any further.

"Is that all?" asked the Headmaster.

Addy looked up defensively. "Yes, I've told you everything about my visit. Those are the exact words that were spoken, down to the letter. I would never tell Voldemort anything about you or Snape or our plans, and I don't take orders from him anymore!"

Addy saw the bushy eyebrows head skyward, and realized she had overreacted. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to get a grip on herself.

"I meant," he replied kindly, "is that all you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Oh," she said blushing. "Yes, that's all," she said. Then she remembered one other thing.

"Actually, Albus, I wanted to ask you if I may be excused from the Dining Hall tonight. Remus and Sirius are leaving for the Shrieking Shack after dinner, and I thought I might dine with them in the kitchens. They have been such a great help to me."

Dumbledore thought about Snape's behavior after breakfast earlier. He paused a moment, and then said, "Yes, Adelaide. I'm sure they would appreciate your company."

Addy smiled and thanked him. She remained seated, scratching the crest of Fawkes' head, wanting desperately to ask for Dumbledore's advice on what to do about Snape.

"Are you sure there isn't something else you came here to talk about, my dear?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, I guess not."

"How did your strategy session with Severus go? You and he were interrupted by Voldemort's summons last night, were you not?"

"Yes. But other than that, it went very, very, very well!" she said, a little too earnestly.

"I see," said Dumbledore, steepling his fingers and touching them to his lips.

Addy knew he could see right through her, but lunch was about to begin and she would have to face Snape again in a few minutes. If she started to talk about what had happened between them, she was sure she'd start weeping, and she didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing her still bleary-eyed.

"Well, I'd better get to lunch," Addy said with forced cheeriness. She set Fawkes back down on his perch gently, holding out the last of the bacon she'd brought for him. 

"Thank you again, Albus," she said, heading for the door.

Dumbledore stood up. "Adelaide?"

"Yes?" she replied, turning nervously back to him.

"Never mind. I'll see you at lunch."

She nodded and walked out.

*********************************************

Lunch followed the same pattern as breakfast, but Addy took solace in the knowledge that it was the last meal she'd have to share with Snape that day. They remained silent and distant throughout, and when Snape tried to make contact with her towards the end, she ran away from him a second time. 

Snape returned to his dungeons, intent on figuring out how to win back her confidence. He still had not come up with an apology that he felt was adequate, and now he was beginning to think it would be a challenge just to get her to listen to him.

In the meantime, Addy faced the Fifth Years with the same exercise and lecture she'd given earlier in the day. She did not repeat herself out of laziness, but rather out of a firm belief that these students needed to develop an awareness of their own abilities, starting with their perceptions and interpretations of the world around them. In fact, her father had used the same exercise on her when she was younger, repeating it over and over until she had developed a nearly photographic memory that had served her well on many occasions. She hoped to teach them, as she had learned, that the real power of their magic came from the strength of their own resources, not from a wand or a book or a spell. 

With the Fifth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins paired together, she had to tread particularly lightly around the classroom politics. While she did not possess the same innate animosity towards the Potter boy that Snape had, in light of Draco's presence, she still she had to make sure to give Harry a particularly difficult question and deduct an extraordinary number of points from Gryffindor when he got it wrong. 

She asked Ron Weasly the same question as she had his sister, but he made the mistake of offering a guess at one of the items on her desk ("A book for keeping track of all the points you've deducted"). Addy knew he was just being sly, and in truth she appreciated the wit of his answer, but she deducted 20 more points from Gryffindor nonetheless, just to keep up appearances. The exercise even stumped Hermione Granger, who got the trick ring question and incorrectly guessed "Onyx."

When it came to Draco, Addy had prepared a question that would seem equally difficult to the rest of the class, but, because of their prior acquaintance with one another, she knew would be easy for him. He earned the only points in the class when Addy asked him about the color of her eyes, and he haughtily answered, "Moss green with golden flecks." The stupid git didn't even have the sense to pretend to have to think about it.

Neville Longbottom was, perhaps, the most difficult student for Addy to face. She really didn't want to call on him at all, but she had calculated a question that he might have half a chance of answering. One of the items she'd placed on her desk was a sleeping toad, and she hoped that it would have caught Longbottom's eye at the start of the class. It hadn't, and she was forced to deduct 10 more points from Gryffindor when he answered incorrectly.

She was very happy when that class was over and breezed through the Fifth Year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs with the same results. When they were gone, she prepared her classroom for the following day, then stepped into her office and checked her pocket watch, noting that Snape's last class of the day had just begun. She penned a brief note to him and rushed out, performing a sturdy locking charm on the door behind her.

Addy quickly climbed the many flights of stairs to the tower that housed the school's Owlery. There was no point in having an owl of her own, since she could not very well send or receive letters from "home", and had no other friends. So she borrowed one of the school's smaller Spotted Owls and attached her note to its leg, saying, "Please take this to Professor Severus Snape." The owl raised an eyebrow and looked down its beak at her, as if to say, "Wouldn't it have been easier to have delivered it yourself?" She replied out loud, saying, "I don't want to see him. Severus Snape…in the dungeons. Now go."

Leaning way over the parapet until her feet came just off the floor, she watched the great bird swoop out and arc in a wide downward spiral through the rain to the dungeons below. From her vantage point, she could see it tap with its beak on a high window of Snape's classroom. She saw a black-robed arm reach out, and the unmistakably graceful fingers detached the note. Then she withdrew, not wanting to be seen in the event that Snape thought to observe the bird's ascent back to the Owlery.

She offered the owl a reward for its services, adding a bit extra since she'd made him go out in the rain, and tried not to think about Snape's reaction to her message, or the wrath he would inflict on the poor students trapped in the dungeons with him. Then she sat down on the soft bed of molted feathers that perpetually blanketed the floor of the Owlery, content in the company of the gently hooting birds. She liked this room. It was quiet and airy, and no one there cared whether her last name was Mayhem or Jones, or where she had come from, or whether or not she had a Dark Mark.

After a while, she realized how dim the room had grown, and checked her pocket watch to see that it was almost time to surprise Remus and Sirius in the kitchens for dinner. She stood with another melancholy sigh, and went to her rooms to freshen up.

******************************************

In the meantime, Snape's frustration was mounting. He'd wracked his brain all night and day to come up with the perfect apology—one that was dignified, heartfelt, eloquent, sensitive, and profound enough to make up for the previous night. And he had come up empty.

As he grew more desperate to find the right words, his classroom manner grew more and more ferocious, and his students were welcomed back to the Potions lab with a hailstorm of derision. He thanked the Gods that he had no First Years that day, because surely one of them would have ended up in Poppy's infirmary, and he in Dumbledore's office. His older students were bad enough. They seemed, to him, to have lost a startling number of IQ points over the summer, and he did not hesitate to make this impression understood by all, digging deep into his repertoire of vivid, blazing invectives. 

'_If only I was as good with healing words as I am with hurting ones_,' he thought ruefully to himself.

Then, in the middle of his Advanced Potions class with the Fifth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins, he heard a rapping on one of the classroom windows. His students tried to pretend that they were tending their cauldrons as they surreptitiously watched Snape retrieve the note from the delivery owl, read it quickly, then lean further out the window and glance upwards as the bird flew off. They saw him crush the note in one hand and put his fist to his lips for just a second, seemingly lost in thought, before pocketing the crumpled message. Then he slammed the window shut and turned on his class with a smoldering look. Anyone careless enough to have got caught staring was treated to the verbal expression of the fire in those eyes.

When the Fifth Year classes were finished, there was but one hour left until dinner, and Snape still did not know what to say to Addy. 

**********************

"Severus, this is a pleasant surprise!" cried Dumbledore in greeting. He noted the trouble creasing his Potions Master's brow, and gestured him into a chair, taking the one opposite for himself. Dobby poured their tea and snapped off.

"Albus, I need your advice…your help with something."

The Headmaster tried to conceal his astonishment, hard-pressed to think of the last time Snape had asked for his, or anyone's, help.

"Last night," Snape continued slowly, "I said something…something terrible that I…truly regret. And I don't know how to take it back."

"Ahhh, Severus, the taking back of words is a kind of magic that has yet to be discovered, unless it was something so drastic as to justify the use of a Time Turner. But I daresay that if anything like that had happened here last night, I would know about it."

The thought was tempting, but Severus knew that a Time Turner was not his solution. "No, it's nothing like that. During our strategy session yesterday evening, Addy was called to see Voldemort."

"Yes, I know," replied Dumbledore. When Severus looked up at him in amazement, he added, "She came to see me earlier today, to tell me about her visit."

"Did she tell you what happened upon her return?" 

"No," said Albus, calmly sipping his tea, knowing that he was about to hear what Addy had wanted to tell him earlier but couldn't.

Snape took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I was waiting for her when she re-apparated. I…I accused her of still being loyal to Voldemort." Snape closed his eyes, waiting for his Headmaster's reproach.

"Is that what you believe?" asked Dumbledore.

"No." 

"Then, why did you say it?"

"I…I don't know. Something overcame me while she was gone. A kind of madness…"

"Madness?" asked Dumbledore.

"Fear. It was fear, Headmaster," Snape responded, growling out his shame and anger at himself, as he leaned his elbows on his knees, hung his head, and clenched his hands together in a tight knot.

Dumbledore leaned in as well, and said softly to his friend, "What are you afraid of, Severus?" 

The younger man gazed at him with the face of true crisis. Albus could see Snape's focus shift inward, as he hunted for the answer in the dense forest of his soul. After some time, Severus shook his head slowly. With the look of a lost traveler, he said, "I don't know."

Albus reached over and placed a sympathetic hand on Severus' shoulder, then sat back in his chair. He let a few moments of silence pass, and then inquired, "Have you told her how you really feel? Have you asked her to forgive you?"

Snape shook his head again. "What can I say now, after all those hurtful things?"

"Well," Dumbledore replied with a kind smile, "I've always found that 'I'm sorry' is a good place to start. I know it's not easy for you Severus."

"It's not enough at this point. I couldn't blame her for hating me," Snape replied, rising and beginning to pace behind his chair.

"Ahhh, there you go again, Severus."

"What?" he asked, 

"You're not giving Adelaide a chance. Not everyone will disappoint you, you know. You've already decided your judgment for her. Let Adelaide decide for herself."

Severus was silent for a minute. Then, pulling Addy's note from his pocket and uncrumpling it, he said, "She's canceled our session for tonight. Says she'll work on some notes on her own and bring them to tomorrow's session. I don't doubt her commitment…I know she'll be back tomorrow for the work…but I don't think I can get her to listen to me if I try to explain."

"Well," said the Headmaster, rising with a sigh, "she is a curious girl."

"Yes, extremely curious," Snape agreed heartily.

"No, I mean she has a strong streak of curiosity in her. Like you. That's what she used to get _you_ to listen when you were trying to avoid _her_."

Snape stopped pacing and stared at the old wizard. How on earth did he know everything?

"Perhaps she is more curious than stubborn. Why not give it a try?" Dumbledore offered with a shrug.

Snape resumed his pacing for another moment, then turned to Dumbledore with a light in his eyes. "Thank you, Albus. I'll speak with her at dinner." He headed for the door.

"Ah, Severus…I'm sorry, but Addy won't be at dinner tonight." 

Snape did not miss a step, but said, rather excitedly and without looking back, "No matter. I've got a plan," and waved over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

To be continued…


	18. Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Werew...

Author's Note: At last, while little Persephone is being born in one corner of fanfic.net (see Rickfan37's story, "Snape In Love"), chapter 18 springs to life here! If anyone is still out there following this story, thank you for your patience and for your kind words of support and encouragement. (The nagging helped too!).

Sorry this has taken so long. It's just that I left town to do some werewolf research in Eastern Europe for this chapter. I was only supposed to be gone a week, and all was going according to schedule, until one night when I ran into Charlie Weasley in a pub in Romania and I became…er…detained. You've got to watch out for those redheads, you know. J Anyway, I'm back, and I do hope to get the next chapter out to you much quicker.

Since it's been so long, here is a synopsis of where things left off at the last chapter:

Addy mistakenly thinks that Snape still hates her, based on his reaction to her when she returned from her visit to Voldemort. Snape, however, deeply regrets his actions that night, but is struggling with a way to tell that to Addy. After a soul-searching conversation with Dumbledore, he has come up with a plan. 

In the meantime, however, Addy is doing her best to avoid him. She has cancelled their evening's strategy session, and has plans to dine in the kitchen with Sirius and Remus, rather than at the staff table. Following tonight's dinner, Sirius and Remus are leaving Hogwarts to spend the full moon in the Shrieking Shack, where Remus can't hurt anyone and Sirius can keep an eye on him. A storm is still raging outside.

Happy Reading!  


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Chapter 18: Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Werewolves

Addy was still wondering how she could possibly continue her work at Hogwarts--with her very own pig-headed mentor believing her to be an active Death Eater—as she bypassed the lively din of the Dining Hall and made her way to the kitchens below. There, a battalion of house elves zipped and darted through the vast underground room, preparing and serving the night's dinner with the coordinated efficiency of a single, multi-armed organism. 

Through this sea of activity, Addy spied Remus and Sirius, who had just seated themselves at the small, old wooden table in the corner of the kitchen where they dined each night. She carefully made her way over to them, weaving delicately through the culinary choreography that waltzed around her. 

Her wizard friends were indeed pleased, yet surprised, to see her. "Aren't you supposed to be upstairs?" asked a stunned Remus, raising his eyes to the Dining Hall directly above them, as house elves fussed about, adding a place setting for Addy.

"I wanted to dine with you and Sirius tonight, since you're leaving soon," she said. As soon as she saw a protest form on Remus' lips, she quickly put up a hand and assured him, "Dumbledore said it was all right."

Sirius laughed as he stood and pulled Addy's chair out for her. "We'll only be gone for a couple of days, Addy. But thanks. It'_s_ nice to have someone to talk to besides old Moony here."

Addy had begun the evening in a somber mood, not realizing how much the good company of her friends would lift her spirits. They enjoyed a delicious meal together, filled with stimulating conversation that turned outright boisterous at times, particularly when a debate arose over the use of Voldemort's proper name. Two bottles of fine red wine contributed to the merriment. Addy was happy to match her companions glass for glass, in her effort to escape her Snape troubles, if only for a few hours. 

As the house elves served a dessert of banana crepes in juniper sauce, Addy decided to bring up a topic that had been on her mind all day. "So, when do I get to visit the Sheek…the Shrack..the Shreiking Shack?" she asked with some difficulty, muddled yet emboldened by the wine. By nature, she had always been intrigued by anything that was off limits, and the mere mention of Remus' hideaway spot had piqued her curiosity from the moment she'd first heard of it.

"Hmmm, well not tonight. Oh I know…how about never? Does never work for you?" Remus responded. 

"Why not?" Addy protested, giving him a playful shove that nearly knocked him off his chair.

"It's a horrible place, Addy. Why on earth would you want to go there?" said Remus, chuckling as he gripped the table.  


"I don't know. I just do. I'm coming with you to the Hollering Hut tonight," she announced doggedly, tossing her napkin down like a gauntlet and employing the girlish pout that had always worked for her as well as any charm or spell.

"Oh you think so, do you?" said Remus, a defiant smirk on his lips as he cleaned his plate. "Are you going to finish those crepes?"

"I know so. I'm just dying to see it, and there's no reason for me not to go," said Addy, adding, "No, take them."

"Well, how about the fact that Dumbledore would have our hides if he knew we'd taken you there. It's off limits to anyone but me and Sirius. Is that a good enough reason for you?" Remus' demeanor suddenly grew grim, and he shook his head sadly. "It's a dangerous place, Addy, not to mention an unhappy one. I don't want you anywhere near the Shrieking Shack, especially while I'm there. Do you understand? If anything ever happened to you…" 

At that moment, Sirius stood up and interjected. "Either way, we'd better get going now, Remus. We have to be inside the Whomping Willow before the students finish dinner. 

"The _Whomping Willow_?" Addy repeated with incredulous delight, as Remus rose to his feet. "You mean there's a Treacherous Tree on the way to the Clamorous Cabin??? Oh, pleeeease take me with you," she begged, listing a bit to the left as she tried to stand up.

"Addy, what did I tell you last night?" Remus scolded, steadying her with a gentle yet firm grip on her elbow as they exited the kitchen. He was growing increasingly aware of the waxing moon and, although dinner had been lovely, was eager now to put a safe distance between Addy and himself.

Remus and Sirius moved purposefully through the hallways and up the stairs, a small satchel of supplies for their 3-day encampment slung over each man's shoulder. Addy fought to clear her head of the wine and to keep up with them as the three made their way to the Great Entrance Hall.

"Oh, Remus, you're perfectly harmless until tomorrow," she cried, practically jogging to keep pace with their long strides. "Nothing will happen…tell him Sirius!"

Sirius looked back at her over his shoulder, taking in the flush in her cheeks, and the jaunty way her curls bounced as she hurried after them. Then he looked over at Remus, who was stalking forward with graceful, fluid strides at such an astonishing pace that even Sirius had trouble keeping up with him. They had been through more moons together than he cared to count, and Sirius could read Remus as well as Dumbledore could. Although he was confident that his overly-cautious friend was quite harmless for another 24 hours, he didn't want to say or do anything that would increase Remus' agitation. 

"No, Addy. Remus is right. You should stay here. Besides…don't you have a session with Snape tonight? Not that I blame you for preferring to spend your time in the Shrieking Shack."

Addy opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, as they emerged into the round entrance foyer, they heard Dumbledore call the Great Dining Hall to order for some after-dinner announcements. 

"No time for explanations now," said Sirius. "We can't be seen…_we've got to go_." 

Addy pouted as the two wizards fastened their cloaks and put up their hoods. From the Entrance Hall they could hear the storm outside battering the castle. Instead of subsiding, it had gained force steadily throughout the day, the rains soaking the castle grounds and the gales snapping branches and whipping window shutters into a frenzy. Sirius and Remus grimaced as they glanced at the outer wall of the castle, knowing that it would be a leaky, wet night for them.

Sirius pointed a finger right between Addy's eyes and said, "You're staying here. If I learn that you were anywhere off the Hogwarts grounds, I will personally put you over my knee, and don't think I'm kidding." 

Addy gave him a sour look, then turned to Remus for one last, desperate attempt at charming her way into their adventure. When he looked back at her, however, she forgot what she had planned to say. Her lips parted and she stared at him, mesmerized. "Remus…your eyes. I never noticed how golden they are. They're beautiful…"

Sirius and Remus exchanged a sharp glance. Sirius nodded and said, "That's it…we're out the door." He gave Addy a fond kiss on the forehead and said, "We'll see you in a couple of days, kid. And don't forget…" he added, pointing his long finger at her again, "…over my knee!" With a great deal of effort, he threw open the enormous doors of the castle, and was immediately pelted with a driving rain. Head down, he leaned into the wind and disappeared across the threshold.

Addy was still hypnotized by the sight of Remus' flaxen eyes, whose pupils were gracefully contracting, even as she watched. The sobering realization of what was happening dawned on her--Remus was in the earliest stages of his transformation! Although Sirius was right in his calculation that his dear, afflicted friend would pose no threat until the following night, Addy saw fear and sadness swimming in those beautiful, golden eyes…and something else, too. She felt ashamed that she had let the wine go to her head, clouding her judgment and vexing her friend even further. She threw her arms around him and said, "Take care of yourself!"

"You too, Addy," he replied, not even daring to hug her back, willing his arms to remain at his side.

With Addy this close, and the unseen moon so ripe, Remus was beginning to feel the tiniest seeds of a familiar craving…an ancestral, instinctual tug. The sensation of physical power surged through him like a tide, and he was flooded with the thrilling potential of every muscle in his body. Breathing deeply to try to clear his brain, he was instead assaulted with a host of heady aromas—including the tantalizing scents of Addy's gender, which, unbeknownst to her, swirled around her like red silk scarves dancing in a whirlwind, so tangible to him that he was tempted to reach out and grab them. Unconsciously, he licked his lips, feeling a tinge of primal pleasure as his tongue grazed the porcelain sleekness of his teeth. He suddenly realized that, locked in her embrace, that rhythmic thumping he heard was her thick, rich blood pulsing through her delicate, paper-thin veins. 

Concentrating to maintain control, he stepped backwards, breaking her embrace. He knew that in another day, control would not be an option, and pinned Addy with a grave look. "I'll be back before you know it. You keep those students on their toes. And work with Snape. Tell me all about it…in three days." 

Addy reached out and squeezed his hand, surprised by the strength with which he squeezed back. She followed him to the door as he dashed out after Sirius, crouching almost to the ground, into the blustery night. 

Addy stepped out across the threshold into the downpour, shielding her face with her arm as her gaze followed her two friends. Squinting through the lashing rain, she struggled to see where they were going. 

With difficulty, she watched the black-cloaked wizards head down the path for a few paces, before they veered off in the direction of the lake. They seemed to be heading for an enormous, old willow tree, whose limbs began twisting and hurling violently upon their approach. What had they called it? The Whomping Willow! They stopped just out of reach of the whipping branches. 

Between the darkness and the rain, Addy could barely make out their silhouettes, and at first she thought it was still the wine clouding her vision, when Sirius seemed to suddenly disappear. In the next instant, however, she saw a large, shaggy dog, as dark as a shadow, weave expertly beneath the angry limbs of the tree, heading straight for its trunk. She couldn't make out clearly what was happening, but soon, the tree became still, and she watched as her two friends disappeared into a dark hole at its base. 

'_So…that's how you get there_,' thought Addy to herself. '_Good to know_.' 

Then she waved a silent prayer in the direction of her absent friends, and stepped back inside the castle, struggling to secure the doors against the pull of the wind.

As she stood there in an emerging puddle, her hair and robes dripping wet, Glammy the house elf shyly approached her. With a snap, the floor was dried and polished, as was Addy. 

Noticing the forlorn look on Addy's face, Glammy kindly patted her hand and said, "Miss Mayhem should not worry about those two rascally wizards. They are lucky to have each other to look after." Addy rewarded her with a genuine, albeit sad, smile, and the house elf continued, "Glammy will draw Miss Mayhem a nice warm bath." 

Just then, they heard the sound of scraping benches and a blast of adolescent chatter, and Addy knew the students would come pounding through the door any second. "That's alright, Glammy," she said, bolting for the staircase on her right. "I have work to do tonight…but thank you. You are an excellent house elf!" she called, before turning and dashing up the stairs, two at a time, in an effort to stay ahead of the stampede. 

Rendered speechless by Addy's praise, all Glammy could do was tug at the ends of her apron, which seemed to be made of quilted dryer lint. Overwhelmed, she squeaked something that sounded like "very kind" and popped off in a snap, only moments before the student body swarmed into the foyer and branched off towards their various House Common Rooms. 

At first, Addy could hear the Gryffindor pack hot on her heels, but after turning off into the quiet side corridor that led to her room, she was able to slow her pace. She shuffled along in a melancholy mood, the uplifting effects of her friends (and the wine) having been washed away with the rain. 

With Remus and Sirius gone, and Snape having turned on her, she had no friends left at the castle, which meant she had no friends left in the world (unless one counted the giant snake imprisoned in Voldemort's compound). Pangs of loneliness swept over her, and the headache that had been left behind by the wine wasn't helping. By the time she reached her door, she was feeling supremely sorry for herself.

Upon stepping into her chambers, however, she was distracted by the disquieting sensation that something was not quite right…something had changed since she'd last been there. She steadily withdrew her wand from her robe pocket, eying every detail as she scanned the room to determine what was gnawing at her.

She could identify nothing that was different in the lounge area, where she stood, so she approached the bedroom door cautiously, her heartbeat thudding harder with every step. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear what she presumed to be the storm rattling her window. 

Wand drawn, muscles tense, nerves bristling, Addy kicked open the door to her bedroom hard, so that it banged back against the wall, or anyone who might be standing behind it. When she heard it indeed hit the wall with a loud SMACK, she put her left foot in the room to keep the door from slamming shut in front of her. And then she saw what she was looking for—the thing that was different.

It was a smallish, square-shaped, green velvet box, about half the size of a bludger, sitting on the edge of her bed. Wrapped around the four sides were green and silver ribbons, which were tied in a large, elaborate bow on top of the box. Eying the package with suspicion, she approached, her wand held lightly and balanced expertly in her outstretched hand. 

She paused in her advance when, as though they could sense her presence, the ribbons started to undulate, curling and unfurling their fringed ends. They were beckoning her, almost as if she could hear them whispering her name, enticing her to come closer…give them a little tug…unbind the package and see what was inside. She stepped to the edge of the bed and stared directly down at the box. Stamped in silver, on top, were the letters S.S.

Shifting her wand to her equally dexterous left hand, Addy crouched, ready to spring backwards. She speculated out loud, "What is he playing at?" as she reached out, took hold of one of the ribbons between her thumb and forefinger, and tugged. 

To be continued…


	19. Chapter 19: Best Laid Plans

Author's Note:  Thanks again for your patience and reviews…please keep them coming!  This chapter contains two references to other performances related to the Harry Potter cast—one for Alan Rickman, and one for Richard Harris.  Can you spot them?   
Happy Reading!

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Chapter 19:  Best Laid Plans

I want somebody to share  
Share the rest of my life  
Share my innermost thoughts  
Know my intimate details  
Someone who'll stand by my side  
And give me support  
And in return  
She'll get my support  
She will listen to me   
When I want to speak  
About the world we live in  
And life in general  
Though my views may be wrong  
They may even be perverted  
She'll hear me out  
And won't easily be converted  
To my way of thinking   
In fact she'll often disagree  
But at the end of it all  
She will understand me  
I want somebody who cares  
For me passionately  
With every thought and  
With every breath  
Someone who'll help me see things   
In a different light  
All the things I detest  
I will almost like   
I don't want to be tied  
To anyone's strings  
I'm carefully trying to steer clear of  
Those things  
But when I'm asleep  
I want somebody  
Who will put their arms around me   
And kiss me tenderly  
Though things like this  
Make me sick  
In a case like this   
I'll get away with it

--Depeche Mode

*************************************

Snape had had precious little time between his last class and dinner to prepare his package for Adelaide.  Of course, no one could clear a classroom like he could, and, once the last of his students had vacated the Potions Lab in record time, he smirked to himself, noting that it had been quite a while since he'd seen fifth-years scurry out with such a desperate look of raw panic in their eyes.  

As soon as the room was empty, he had summoned Dobby, who was promptly dispatched to the kitchens with an assignment.  Snape retrieved some of his finest stationery from a black leather box in his office, then sat down at his desk to write a note for Addy, while waiting for the House Elf's return.  

 '_Hmmmm…what to say,' he puzzled as he looked at the tauntingly blank card, placing his palms together and pressing the edge of his forefingers against his pursed lips, his thumbs crossed beneath his chin.  _

 '_Something brief, yet intriguing…just enough to pique the curiosity, without seeming maudlin,' he mused.  Finally, he came up with a few words that, in his mind, struck a perfectly inviting balance._

When Dobby returned with Snape's request wrapped in tissue paper, Snape placed it gently inside a green velvet box lined in creamy white satin, and then delicately set the note card on top.  He looked at the present and frowned.  Tilting his head to the left, he readjusted the position of the card.  Then he did the same thing, this time tilting his head to the right, and again, back to the left.  He fidgeted with the tissue paper and repositioned the card several more times before he noticed a slack-jawed Dobby staring at him as though he had three heads.

"What?" he snapped at the House Elf.

"N…n…nothing, Sir" stammered Dobby, motionless with shock.

Snape scowled and slammed the hinged lid down on the box, still glowering at Dobby.  Then, with an air of extreme nonchalance, as though this was something he did every day, he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out four green and silver ribbons, never taking his gaze from the quivering elf in front of him who was trying to keep his already wide eyes from popping out of his head.

With long, graceful fingers, Snape gathered the ribbons around the box, and whipped them into an amiable bow with a swish of his wand.  One more enchantment would cause the ribbons to gesture appropriately—a special touch with which he was particularly pleased.  Then he cast a final spell to burn his initials in silver into the top of the box with the tip of his wand.

Balancing the box on the tips of his fingertips, he looked at his package approvingly, a bit surprised at himself.  It had been a long, long time since he had made even the slightest attempt at anything of the sort, and back then he had been an oblivious, senseless, infatuated boy.  He'd had his heart duly stomped on, and had kept it well protected ever since.   Severus Snape had always been a quick learner, but he had perhaps learned some lessons too well, and just maybe the time had come for him to unlearn a thing or two.

But, he had to admit, the package looked good.  There was no way Addy would be able to resist it, and once she opened it, he felt sure that her curiosity would draw her straight to him.  

Snape intended to return to his classroom immediately following dinner in the Dining Hall.  According to his plan, Addy would appear at his door shortly thereafter--looking quizzically lovely—perhaps holding the card in one hand, a charmingly puzzled expression across her face.  "There's something you want to explain to me?" she'd ask.  He lightly touched the long scroll of parchment sitting on his desk.  It contained the formal explication and apology he'd been up all night writing.

*************************************

Back in her chambers, Addy had come to the conclusion that Snape wouldn't dare try to pull anything that was outright dangerous, not under Dumbledore's roof anyway, and she was silently grateful for the Headmaster's implicit protection.  Still, she reasoned, just because this strange little package, with its bows waving cheekily at her, appeared to be from Snape, that didn't necessarily mean it was.  Appearances could lie.  For example, Snape himself had _appeared to be her friend, hadn't he, just before whirling round and raking her over the coals for being a Death Eater.  Yes, appearances weren't always what they seemed, and things could change in a heartbeat._

She approached the package with caution.

At the slightest tug, the beckoning ribbons sprang from the box with a life of their own, causing Addy to scoot backwards reflexively.  From her crouched position, wand at the ready, she watched the hinged lid of the box open slowly of its own accord, creaking enticingly as it revealed it's satin interior.  And then…nothing. 

She took a halting step towards it, and then another, until she was once again peering directly down into the box.  A folded note card rested neatly on top of something that was loosely wrapped in tissue paper.  The card bore the same initials as the box, embossed in silver.  

Addy picked up the note and opened it.  Inside were three words, written in precise handwriting:

"_Let me explain_".

Then, as Addy held the card in her hands, a fourth word shimmered into view beneath the others:

"_Please_."

Addy bit her lower lip in dubious reflection…was that a special request, or an afterthought?  

As if in answer to her unspoken question, the word "Please" suddenly underlined itself.

The note relieved some of her anxiety about the nature of the package, but--still wary--she poked at the tissue paper with her wand.  There was definitely something small and solid wrapped inside.  A faint smell wafted up from the box—the card had smelled of leather, but the object inside had an odor she recognized, but could not put her finger on.  

She parted the tissue paper carefully to finally reveal Snape's little present.  An angry, puzzled frown spread slowly across her face as she stared down into the box.  In disbelief, she reached in and, holding the item gingerly between thumb and forefinger, plucked out a single, slightly greasy, still warm, broiled lamb chop.

"What in the name of Joan…" she said aloud, squinting at the piece of meat.  "Explain INDEED!"

She slowly twirled it in her fingers to view it from all sides…lifted it to her nose to smell it… poked at it.  By all accounts, it seemed to be a perfectly ordinary, everyday lamb chop.  She started to pace.

Why on earth had Snape sent it to her?  What could it possibly mean?

"_I see_," she thought to herself, holding the lamb chop at arm's length, still clutched between two fingers.  "_He sends me some sort of obscure message disguised as an entree, with a three-and-a-half-word note, and I'm supposed to go trotting down to his dungeons like a supplicant, begging him to enlighten me to the bizarre inner workings of his twisted mind.  Well I'm sorry, Professor Snape," she continued, thrusting the lamb chop into his imagined face,_ " I'm not interested in your little games_!"_

She continued to pace, keen to figure out the hidden meaning of Snape's token on her own, so that she could throw it in his face…both literally and figuratively.  But she came up with nothing. 

 '_Forget about it, __Adelaide" she eventually told herself.  '_And forget about him. If Professor Snape has something he'd like to say to you, he can come calling like a normal person.  He knows where you live.  Just forget about him and his stupid…cryptic…infuriating lamb chop!  You've got work to do_."_

With a determined nod to herself, she dropped the lamb chop back into the box, closed the lid with a definitive flourish, slammed it down on the table in her lounge, and dramatically wiped her hands against one another.  She'd visit Hagrid tomorrow and bring it as a treat for Fang.  Then she picked up the green and silver ribbons and spent several seconds crumpling them into teensy, tiny balls, muttering to herself, before hurling them into the wastebasket.  

Next, Adelaide sat down at her desk with her back to the box, and, with exaggerated casualness, opened her notes from the previous night's strategy session.  She had planned on refining her crudely drawn map of the site where Voldemort intended to blow up the London Underground.  She opened her bottle of ink…and immediately spilled a large stain on her robe.

 "Aaaarrrrgh!" she cried, as she stood to remove the garment and perform yet another cleaning spell.   "Why do I even bother?!?"

With that, Addy needed a drink.  All the lovely tipsiness she'd accrued during dinner had abandoned her.  The meal itself felt like it had been _days_ earlier, not less than an hour. How could one day go so far downhill so quickly?

She went to the small bar with which her room had been stocked and, for the first time, inspected the bottles that had been set there for her use.  She picked out an aromatic, garnet-colored, orange-blossom cognac and poured herself a snifter, taking it back to her desk.  On her way back, she glanced down at the velvet box on her table.  The lid was raised.  She could swear that she had closed it.  She slammed it shut (again), exclaiming, "Stupid lamb chop!" before reinstating herself at her desk.

She took a large sip of cognac and pulled out the tea-stained sketch that she had drawn the previous night in Snape's office.  Addy sucked on the end of her quill, trying to concentrate on her work.  But the stains on the map reminded her of his rough hands caressing her face…the rhythmic stroking of his thumbs in her upturned palms.  The look in his eyes as she'd stepped towards him…a look that was, at the same time, vulnerable and masterful, desirous and generous.  She took another gulp of cognac, recalling how she'd felt irresistibly drawn toward him, her heart fluttering in her throat.  She had been just moments from reaching out and tracing the refined contour of his lips with her finger…from pressing her body against his…

With an unbidden warmth pulsing in her groin, her mind wandered back to the strange parcel on the table behind her.  Twirling her quill between pursed lips, she swiveled slowly in her chair until she was staring at the box.  It was open again.  She drained the snifter.

What could it mean? What was he trying to tell her?  The sound of his tender laughter at the site of her smudged face floated to the forefront of her memory, only to be quickly replaced by the acidic hiss of his voice at the moonlit gate: 

 "_Why not?  Voldemort's orders?"  _

Was he taunting her with this gift? Was it a puzzle?  A mean joke?  A threat?

It was obvious she wasn't going to get any work done until she figured this out.  She poured herself some more cognac, took the lamb chop out of the box, set it on the table to study it, and spoke out loud as she circled the small room, trying to decipher the riddle.  

 "Okay, it's a lamb chop…it comes from a lamb…a lamb is…a baby sheep!  Sheep are… ummm…fuzzy…they're barnyard animals…sheep have a reputation for being loyal, yet stupid.  Is that what he's trying to say?"  Maybe, but it didn't really seem right.  She continued.

 "Sheep are weak, defenseless…they're not predators, they're prey…sheep are followers!  Aha!  It's a comment on me being one of Voldemort's "followers!"

She stopped and crinkled her nose.  It was still a little obtuse, even for Snape.

 "Wait a minute!" she said, snapping her fingers excitedly. She refreshed her drink and grabbed a scrap of parchment from her desk, writing out the letters: L – A – M – B – C- H – O – P in large block print.

Then:

"Champlob"

 "Pomblach"

 "Mapbloch"

Perhaps there was some arcane significance to one of these anagrams!  She laboriously withdrew her massive WED (Wizards English Dictionary) from the bookshelf and fingered through it breathlessly, searching for some meaning among the yellowed pages.  

The endeavor proved to her one very important thing: that this whole exercise was a load of rubbish.  "Oh Hades!" she cried, slamming shut the enormous book with great difficulty.  Addy emptied her snifter again in one stiff shot.

She tried to brainstorm the riddle a bit longer, until her cognac-soaked brain felt as turbulent as the storm outside.  Suddenly, a bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the room in electric blue, followed by a timpani chorus of thunder.

 "That's it.  Its time to take the dragon by the horns," she slurred to herself.  "Thanks to the sophomoric humor of Professor Severus Snape, it's quite obvious that no work will get done in this room until I have a word with him, and let him know exactly what I think of his little gift."  

Addy grumbled to herself as she slammed the lid down (for the third time) on the box, pocketed it and crossed the room, banging her door shut as another clap of thunder rumbled through the castle.

She stormed down to the dungeons, fueled by the warm liquor that coursed through her, rehearsing what she would say in a barely contained undertone the entire way.  Every few minutes, lightning would flash through a high window, casting her rampageous expression in deep relief.  Had any students been out wandering the halls, they would have had a good fright.

Before long, she was at the door to the Potions Laboratory, cheeks flushed…hands clenched at her sides…angry, cognac-drenched thoughts swimming through her mind and ready to burst forth from her lips.

*********************

Snape had rigged a Sneak-o-Scope to let him know when _anyone approached—friend or foe-- which turned out to be a good thing because Addy's current temper would surely have otherwise confounded it.  When he saw it start to whirl and sputter, he put the finishing touches on his office, where he had set up dessert for two:  champagne and dark chocolate truffles.  He didn't particularly care for sweets himself, but could tolerate a finely made bittersweet chocolate from time to time, and he had it on Dumbledore's authority that Addy would appreciate the gesture.  He had put all his trust in the idea that his Headmaster knew how to handle a woman, since he certainly did not._

He lit some candles and stepped out into the Potions Classroom, just as the sound of her stomping footsteps came to a halt outside.  He went to stand behind his desk, noticing for the first time a strange feeling, deep in his belly—he felt, for the first time in a long time, _alive_.  Puttering around in his office just now, he'd even come close to whistling to himself, once or twice.  

Running his hands over his torso and arms, he straightened and smoothed his frock coat, double-checking his buttons to see that he hadn't missed one.  He leaned down a bit to check that every button at each ankle of his pants was in place, and, last but not least, placed his hands on his neck to ensure that his collar was standing properly.   Then he cleared his throat and fixed a look of gracious welcome on his face, as he pointed his wand at the door and opened it from across the room with an expectant "Alohomora".  

Snape was lucky that he had keen reflexes.  Had he not ducked just in time, the lamb chop would have hit him smack between the eyes.  Even drunk, Addy had good aim.

To be continued…


	20. Chapter 20: A Revelation

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Thank you for all your reviews, comments, and feedback, and for sticking with the story this far.   If you're like me, most of you have got your faces buried in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix these days, and rightfully so.

If you are reading this, I'm assuming that you've already gobbled up the book in one breathless weekend.  I am very grateful for anyone who is still here keeping up with this story, particularly after the long lapse in chapters, and would surely appreciate reviews. 

However, please note that there are several readers, not to mention this story's author, who have not yet finished "Phoenix", so if you do take the time to review this chapter, please be sure to not post anything that might even be remotely construed as a spoiler for the book.  

Many thanks to Superwitch and her wonderful story here on fanfiction.net called "The Coiled Splendor", for the idea of picking up at the start of a new chapter where we last left off. So…

Chapter 19 ended with:  

He lit some candles and stepped out into the Potions Classroom, just as the sound of her stomping footsteps came to a halt outside.  He straightened and smoothed his frock coat, double-checking his torso, arms, ankles, and neck to see that he was properly buttoned up and that his cuffs and collar were resting properly.   Then he cleared his throat and fixed a look of gracious welcome on his face, as he pointed his wand at the door and opened it from across the room with an expectant "Alohomora".  

Snape was lucky that he had keen reflexes.  Had he not ducked just in time, the lamb chop would have hit him smack between the eyes.  Even drunk, Addy had good aim.

*********************************

And now, on to Chapter 20:  A Revelation

The lamb chop missed Snape's head by inches and collided into several of the jars that sat on the shelves behind him.  The resulting jangle of shattered glass was soon dwarfed by a thunderous bellow:

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, SENDING ME A LAMB CHOP???"

Snape sprang back up and looked over his shoulder to ensure that there were no wet ingredients mixing catastrophically on the floor behind him.  Then he turned back slowly to glare at Addy, who was advancing bullishly up the center aisle of the classroom, hands on hips. This was not exactly the greeting he'd envisioned.  The crazy witch seemed to be--of all things--angry!

After all the trouble he'd gone through, he did not appreciate her tone of voice, the stubborn set of her jaw, nor her Ninja-like skills with a lamb chop.  That temper of hers could have blown the whole place up, had she hit the wrong jars.

His dark eyes narrowed as he said dryly, with forced nonchalance, "It would appear that something has upset you, Adelaide.  I gather it has to do with my package."  

"Oh, Professor Snape," purred Addy, in sarcastic, mock admiration, "How stunningly perceptive of you.  Fifty million points to Slytherin for the breathtaking acuity of its Head of House!" she growled, as she continued her inflamed march towards him, zigzagging ever so slightly.

He pursed his lips and clenched his hands together in an effort to stop himself from responding to her verbal provocations.  He couldn't imagine why she was so upset—it was just a lamb chop, after all.  He'd only intended to pique her curiosity enough to compel her to seek him out.  

His plan had obviously gone awry somehow—she wasn't _supposed_ to be_ angry._  _'Why were witches so bloody unpredictable_?' he thought to himself.  But, just before a biting retort escaped his lips, he remembered the apology he owed her, not to mention the bottle of fine champagne that sat chilling next door in his office, and decided that he would do his best to get the evening back on track.  

Ignoring her fury, he clapped his hands together brightly, the way he'd seen Albus do so many times.  "So," he said with an effort at enthusiasm, "You opened the package, read the note, saw the contents, and it made you…curious, correct?"  He looked as though he believed he could defuse her anger by the sheer force of his will.

"Curious?  CURIOUS???  Try FURIOUS, not CURIOUS, you…you…you MORON!" she exploded.   Addy knew that "moron" was neither a particularly witty nor accurate epithet for Snape, but due to the lingering effects of the cognac, it was the best she could come up with under duress.  She looked wildly about for something else to throw at him.  Unfortunately for her, the potions classroom was monastically immaculate, as usual.  

Snape's right eyebrow shot up, his clenched knuckles turned white, and his left eye started to twitch in his struggle to restrain himself.  He couldn't remember anyone having ever called him a "moron," and, apology or no apology, the thin ice on which Addy had been treading was now definitely cracked.  He had to literally bite his tongue until it bled to keep himself from replying, although he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering surreptitiously toward his wand, which sat on the desk in front of him.  One quick swish and… 

Addy took his silence as a sign that he simply had nothing to say to her.  She sighed in frustration, trying to get her temper under control.  When she spoke again, the liquor-fueled vitriol was gone from her voice, replaced instead with the long-suffering undertones of a martyr.  She gesticulated violently and looked as though she might even lay the back of her hand across her forehead.

"Look, Snape.  I realize you hate me…I realize you think I'm still part of Voldemort's 'flock'—ha ha--lamb chop--I get it. Believe me, you made yourself MORE than clear at the gate last night!  But honestly—"

Snape pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes.  It had finally dawned on him that she had taken the package to be a cruel joke…his way of continuing to make his vicious point.  And, even though he thought she was laying the theatrics on a bit thick, he still very much wanted to set things straight and make it clear to her how much he regretted the things he'd said and the ways in which he'd hurt her.

"Addy—" he said, trying to cut her off.

"—I would have thought that a wizard of your stature, not to mention _advanced years_, would be beyond—"

"Adelaide!" he said louder, hoping to break through her tirade.

"…this sort of childish prank.  I mean, really!  Sending me a piece of meat?  You ought to be ashamed of—"

"ADELAIDE SHUT UP!" he thundered, silencing her.  He opened his eyes to see that she had breached the gab between them and now stood directly opposite him, glaring at him darkly from across his desk.  She leaned on it with both hands splayed across the surface, her head jutting forward defiantly, a squall building behind her gaze with each blink of her blazing green eyes.  

"Give me a chance to explain," Snape continued hastily, slicing the air with his expressive hands as he backed away instinctively, as one would from a rabid animal.  "All I wanted to do was _apologize_ for last night!  The lamb chop was just…just bait," he said with a shrug.

"B…b…b…" Addy was sputtering so apoplectically, she couldn't even get the words out.  She clutched the edge of the desk with all her might to keep herself from leaping across it, and managed to growl through clenched teeth, "_If you wanted to talk with me, why didn't you just say so???"_

Now it was Snape's turn to explode with indignation.  "I TRIED!" he hollered, pacing behind his desk like a large cat in a small cage.  "I tried last night…I tried at breakfast AND at lunch.  Then you cancelled our strategy session—too cowardly to face me--and snuck your way out of Dinner as well."

Addy glared at him, nostrils flaring.  But she knew he was right, and she was at a loss for a response.  

Snape knew an opening when he saw one, so he folded his arms across his chest poutily, and seized the moment, saying, "You wouldn't listen to me and you know it.  Face it. The bait worked.  You're here aren't you?"  Then he raised one eyebrow at her--in triumph.

Adelaide had to admit, if only to herself, that he had a point—she _had_ refused to speak to him, and he had, indeed, exploited her own curiosity to get her to come to come down there.  Cursing herself, she glowered at him and folded _her_ arms in unconscious imitation of him.  "_He may have won that battle_," she thought stubbornly, "_but we're not done here yet_."  

"So," she said, her voice shifting into a disturbingly inquisitive tone, "I'm here for an apology, am I?  Well then…let's hear it."

"Please, have a seat," said Snape, gesturing graciously toward the comfortable armchair he had placed next to the desk for her use.  '_Now we're getting somewhere_,' he thought to himself.

Adelaide sneered at it and instead walked slowly and deliberately around the desk toward the old, black, leather chair in which he sat to do his work.  Snape's chair.  Her eyes sparkled puckishly and she kept them trained on him as long as she could, before turning her back in order to lower herself languidly into_his_ _chair_.  

She was instantly bathed in his unmistakably masculine scent, which caused her to close her eyes against its dizzying effects.  The leather was still warm from his heat, and creaked a bit as she snuggled her bottom into the depression that fit his body like a glove.  He was standing directly behind her, beyond her vision, and she could only imagine with bratty glee the expression on his face as she massaged the chair's padded leather arms.

With her back turned dismissively to him, she could not see the fleeting recoil that seized his body, in response to this unheard-of assault on his personal realm.  He twitched with the impulse to stop her, but somehow managed to check himself for fear of losing control and doing some real damage.   

By clenching every voluntary muscle in his body, Snape managed—just barely—to maintain a stoic façade.  He cleared his throat and reached stiffly into a drawer on her right.  Taking great care not to brush against her leg, he retrieved the scroll of parchment on which he'd been working all night.  Once he'd got this out, he thought to himself, they could be done with this silly apology and he could throw her out of his office—bodily if necessary—until she learned some manners.  Glancing back to make sure she wasn't touching anything, he took a deep breath, and launched into his "apology."

Except, unfortunately, the speech which he had so looked forward to delivering was, in fact, more of an explanation than an act of contrition—a rather extensive, analytical rationalization for the "causes for his temporary lapse in judgment, which had produced a reversion to learned responses of doubt and suspicion, resulting in abnormal thought processes and behavior."

The overpowering intensity of his essence continued to ring through Addy's body for the first several sentences.  But as soon as the blissful fog she was in lifted a bit, the sound of his voice penetrated it and a deep frown of disappointment crossed her face.  She opened her eyes and stared at him.  

What she was hearing was not an apology for his unconscionable behavior the previous night.  Rather, it seemed to Addy that Snape was more interested in absolving himself of blame than in simply apologizing and putting it behind them.

Snape persisted with his speech, certain that the irresistible logic of his argument would win her over.  He lectured on for over thirty minutes about the causes of, and precedent for, his extreme reaction upon Addy's return from Voldemort's lair, citing scientific, historical, literary and philosophical sources.  It was a truly magnificent speech.  But he never said he was sorry.

When he was finished, he rolled up the scroll with a flourish and a rather self-satisfied grin, for he knew himself to be an exceptionally skilled orator.  He looked up at her expectantly and said, "Well, what is your response?"

Addy let out a resigned sigh and stood up dejectedly.  At the start, she had actually believed that he felt badly about having hurt her feelings.  But now it seemed that he simply wanted to be let off the hook for it.

"That was a very thorough explanation, Snape" she said.  "You've crossed all your T's and dotted all your I's, haven't you?" she added, unable to hide her disillusionment.

Again, it was not the response he'd been expecting, and Snape started to feel that he was hopelessly lost when it came to dealing with Adelaide Mayhem.  She still seemed hurt, despite his best intentions and his best efforts at righting the situation.  He could tell that he was letting her down, but he didn't know how or why, and the feeling knotted up his heart.  He'd done the wrong thing again, but what was the right way?  What did she want of him?  

"Am I forgiven then?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, sure," Addy replied with a sad look that held his hopeful gaze for a moment, before sinking to the floor.

"So then, we can get back to our work?" he said, hoping to cheer her.  

She glanced up at him sharply, and then looked as though a wand had just been illuminated over her heard.  "Ahhhhhhhh, I see.  You needn't have worried about the work, Snape.  I'm not a child, and I'm not about to let hurt feelings get in the way of my professional obligations.  I just needed this one night off…to sort out some of the…overwhelming events of the past few days.  I would have returned to our strategy work tomorrow, even if—"

He cut her off, saying, "My apology has nothing to do with our work, or your 'professional obligations'."

"You call that an apology?" she replied bitterly.

"What was wrong with it?"

"That wasn't an apology, Snape.  You just want me to agree that your actions were somehow justified!"

"No I don't" Snape responded, not entirely convinced of his own protest.

Then, Addy fixed him with a stubborn stare and spat out point blank the question she'd wanted to ask him all day:  "Why did you accuse me last night of being loyal still to Voldemort?" 

"I told you," he said, reaching again for his scroll.  "There is an historical precedent that led to an association and response—"

She reached out and smacked the parchment out of his hand.  "Oh, stop it Snape.  Just talk to me.  What…what came over you?  I thought you trusted me!"

"I do!" he protested.

"Then why?" she whispered.  Addy's eyes shone with imminent tears, and she balled up her fists to stop herself from crying.  It was a childish gesture—the last thing she wanted to do—but she could think of no other way to stem the tide of emotion that threatened to wash her away.  

Snape took an awkward step toward her, but stopped in frustration, not knowing what to say or do.  Impulsively, he took her hands in his, just as he'd done in his office the previous night, although it seemed to both of them like ages ago.  He found himself wishing for a potion that would erase all the things that had happened after he had walked her to the gate and she had disapparated…

Suddenly inspired, he gripped her hands and said, "Do you remember when you were first summoned by Voldemort, and I gave you a potion to drink before we left for the back gate?"

Addy looked at him as though he was setting a trap, but answered tentatively, "Yes—it fought off the pain for a while.  What about it?"

"You wouldn't drink it at first," he said nervously.

"Yes I--" she started, and then remembered how her father's voice had rung in her ears, bidding her not to trust Snape, or anyone for that matter.  She snapped her mouth shut.

Snape continued, "You questioned me about the contents of that potion until I had to practically beg you to drink it, despite the pain you were in.  I saw it—the suspicion and mistrust in your eyes. I saw the Death Eater in you then, Addy, and it was easy to spot because it's the same one I see when I look in the mirror.  It's the same one that came out in me last night, when you returned to Hogwarts.  The same one, only fiercer."

Addy tried to pull her hands out of his grip but Snape held fast.  His eyes were shining with a fierce animation.  She looked away from him, as he continued.

"Did you know that when I first left Voldemort's service and came to…to work here, I would trust no one except for Albus, and even him I tested incessantly," he said with an ironic laugh. "The kindness and patience that wizard showed me…" Snape's voice trailed off, and Addy snuck a quick look at him.  His eyes clouded with the effort—still—of comprehending Dumbledore's compassion towards him.  A moment later, they fixed on her intently again and she looked away.

"Among other displays of, um, misguided behavior, I would eat and drink only from Dumbledore's platter and from Dumbledore's pitcher."  He continued, stumbling, at times, in an effort to give voice to the thoughts and feelings that had spun in solitary tumult through his brain for so long.  

"But, in time, I came to realize that there was a whole other…another way, Addy…different from Voldemort's cunning world…different from the dark things we were taught.  A world of honor and trust and…"  Once again, words failed him.  

Snape took a deep breath and went on.  "The staff—those that were here back then—they still joke about the day I finally dared to eat off my own platter, instead of forcing them to pass me Dumbledore's.  It was a platter of lamb chops, Addy..."  He gave her a knowing look, and she glanced over his shoulder at the lamb chop still sitting greasily on the floor.

He continued intensely, letting go of her hands and taking hold of her shoulders, "It might sound funny but I swear to you Addy, the taste of those lamb chops was the first taste of freedom I'd had in a long time…possibly ever."  Snape licked his lips at the memory.  Addy watched, transfixed by his physical presence and the emotions that battled behind his shimmering black eyes.  

"It…it's not the same, Snape," she managed, stubbornly yet meekly, wanting so much to just let herself be swept up in the river of his emotions, but unable to quite haul anchor.

"It _is_ the same thing, Adelaide," he replied, eyes flashing feverishly, trying hard not to grip her too tightly in his zeal.  "My mistrust of Dumbledore, your mistrust of me, my mistrust of you…it's _all _the same thing, just different degrees!  It's the rotten seed that Voldemort has planted inside every one of his Death Eaters…the miserable crop of fear and subjection he's trying to sow across the whole world.  He won't rest until every witch and wizard is blind with suspicion and nearly eaten alive with cynicism.  I had thought it was too late for me, until…"

He cut himself off, not daring to admit to the hope that came to his heart the day she had come to Hogwarts.  

"That fear lives inside both of us Addy," he continued.  "Last night, you were afraid to trust me, and I was afraid to trust you."  He lowered his head in order to catch her eye, and when she obstinately refused to look at him, he took her chin in his long fingers and tilted her face up until her gaze met his, twinkling away with inspiration and mischief.  "I'm just better than you are at behaving like a dragon's arse, that's all.  I'm afraid you're just going to have to live with that fact," he added with a shamefaced grin.

Then he grew serious again, and for the first time, he knew exactly what to say to her.  

"I'm sorry, Adelaide.  I should not have said those things to you last night.  You did not deserve them.  Please forgive me."

Addy stared at him, her stunned expression finally turning into a sheepish smile.  Blinking back tears, she said simply, "OK."

During the next few tongue-tied seconds, the silence was broken periodically by the sounds of Addy's sniffles as they avoided looking at one another.  Snape tentatively let go of shoulders to offer her another green silk handkerchief.  Finally, she cleared her throat and said "It's still early…we can still get in a couple hours of work tonight on our plans for the underground."

"You don't need the night off?"

"Not anymore."

A hint of a smile graced his face as he said, "I've arranged for some refreshments while we work.  There will be no spilt tea tonight."

He crossed the room, opened the door to his office, and followed her in.  Addy's breath was taken away—no one had ever done anything like this for her before.  Snape, however, grimaced at the site:  the few candles that were still lit had burnt down almost to nubs, and the bottle of champagne sat in a puddle of mostly melted ice.  "I can fix it," he said, retrieving his wand.  "No," she replied, stopping him with a hand on his arm.  "It's perfect."  

Snape opened the champagne while Addy sniffled her last sniffles and pocketed the Slytherin-crested handkerchief, gaping around at the hundreds of candles that hung about the room.  A moment later they raised their sparkling glasses and Addy offered a toast:

"To Voldemort's worst nightmare."

Snape replied, "Yes."

They clinked glasses and downed their first glass, as a few more candles sputtered out with a soft hiss.

To be continued…

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  OK, is everyone happy—no cliffhangers here, right?  But I will tell you that in the next chapter, Snape and Addy definitely get a bit closer.  He he he…


	21. Chapter 22: Getting to Know You

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a little reminder that there may be several readers, not to mention this story's author, who have STILL not yet finished "Phoenix", so if you do take the time to review this chapter, please be sure to not post anything that might even be remotely construed as a spoiler for the book. 

I was flabbergasted…and quite moved…to see that so many of you are still reading this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your reviews! Not only are they inspirational and highly motivating, but they also have given me some lovely ideas to incorporate into the story. Again, I can't thank you enough for your thoughtful feedback. 

This chapter was supposed to be longer, but in an effort to post more frequently, I decided to split it into two and post the first part now. Also, in an effort to sync up my chapter numbers with fanfiction.net's chapter numbers, I'm skipping Chapter 21 in my chapter titles and going straight to Chapter 22. Let's just say that the number "21" has always been bad luck for Addy… ;-)

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Chapter 22: Getting to Know You

Inside the champagne flutes, the magical bubbles formed themselves into tableaux of various romantic settings, as Snape refilled their glasses, pulled out a chair for Addy, and sat down next to her. She looked down with delight to see that inside Snape's glass, a handsome young man appeared to be reciting poetry to his lady friend as they reclined in a Gondola making its way through the canals of Venice, while in her own, couples waltzed in elaborate splendour inside a miniature Viennese ballroom.

Snape's decanters and instruments shimmered around her on their shelves in the flickering candlelight, and as the bubbles tickled away at her senses, the room began to pulsate pleasantly. Addy slid her chair closer so she could get a good look at him in the softly radiant light. When Snape held out the plate of truffles for her, she selected one and put it in her mouth whole, closing her eyes as the creamy richness dissolved on her tongue. She leaned her elbow on the table and cradled her cheek in her hand, reflecting on all the things Snape had said about Voldemort, and fear, and trust.

A question came to mind, but her mouth was too full of chocolate. She held up one finger in the "wait" gesture and tried to chew quickly, her eyes flashing buoyantly at him. They both laughed nervously.

Snape' expression was taut with anticipation as he waited for her to speak. A few more candles extinguished themselves and the weight of the night hugged in around them. Finally, she swallowed forcefully and washed the mouthful down with half a glass of champagne. When she put her flute down, the bubbles reimagined themselves into the figures of a rustic young man and woman reclining in a field of wild flowers. Snape sipped from his glass patiently.

"How long have you been interested in potions?" she asked dreamily.

The question caught him off guard. Snape had never been one to fondly reminisce about his past. "Oh…since I was a student here at Hogwarts," he said, treading lightly. "It was always my favorite subject." 

"You're a very good Potions Master, you know." 

"I know."

"The best there is."

Snape shrugged.

Then, quite out of the blue, she asked in a quiet voice, "Do you remember the first time you ever met Voldemort?" Addy had never had anyone with whom she could speak about Voldemort or her life as a Death Eater, and she thought it might do them both good to talk about it. Beyond that, she wanted to get to know him better…to learn about his hopes and dreams and thoughts and memories. 

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took a larger swig of champagne, as another candle sputtered out ominously behind him. No one had ever asked him such a question, and his immediate reaction was '_Why would she want to know that_?" But he reminded himself of the things he'd just said in his classroom, and, with some help from the bubbly, pressed himself to take his own advice and open up a bit.

"On the day of my graduation from Hogwarts, I received a note from my parents," Snape replied quietly and haltingly, adding a bit sharply, "who did not put in an appearance for the occasion. The note said that they had arranged an apprenticeship for me, and I was to take my things and go with Lucius Malfoy. That was the last I ever heard from either of my parents. Lucius took me to The Compound, where I was introduced to Tom Riddle…and your father. It was shortly after that that we started calling Tom 'Lord Voldemort."

"Ah, I remember something about that," Addy murmured. "I was young, but I remember my father arguing with Tom that he didn't think we should have a Hogwarts-trained Potioner. He said Dumbledore would have instilled in you too many 'undesirable qualities." 

She glanced sideways at him and continued softly, squinting into the dimness in an effort to recall. "But Voldemort insisted that you were from a long line of pure-blooded Snapes, and that you were the best thing to come out of Slytherin House, or any House for that matter, in a long time." Addy paused. "He was right." 

She watched as Snape ran his fingers around the rim of his champagne flute, looking somberly down at the bubbles as they shifted into a new scene. He took another long, thoughtful sip. The few remaining lit candles flickered, but fought valiantly to hold their flame. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was insensitive of me…"

"No, it's not you," he replied. After a brief, pensive pause, he continued slowly, without looking up at her. "Sometimes, though…I do wonder…what my life would have been like if I hadn't been sent to Voldemort, and at such a tender age. Worthless musings, I know…what's done is done, and can't be changed. But still, I can't help but ponder how things would have been different if I'd had other options back then…the whole world before me like some of these students…if I'd come from different…stock…"

Snape trailed off and Addy placed a delicate hand on his forearm, looking him squarely in the eye with a very serious expression. 

"TELL me about it," she said. Snape grinned and nodded, with a small burst of laughter. He looked at her and each one knew that the other understood far more than a million words could express. 

He had an intoxicating effect on her, more so than the wine, the cognac, the champagne and the candles put together. She felt her heart lift and flutter at the way his grin seemed to soften his features in the twinkling glow of the room, opening a tiny chink in his armor and a glimpse at what lay beneath. 

Her inhibitions took flight on the wings of his brief laughter. With a mischievous glint, she picked out a truffle and gingerly touched it to his lips, quietly saying, "Well…I guess all we can do is take full advantage of the options we have now."

Snape parted his lips slightly and slowly took in her offering, his eyes locked on hers. Her fingers lingered on his mouth and he tasted her, his tongue meeting her sweet flesh in one delicious moment. He felt his body respond to the taste of her, craving more…wanting to taste _all_ of her.

'_Is it really possible_?' he wondered to himself, his doubts melting along with the rich, dark chocolate. Every time he had sensed Addy's interest in him, he'd written it off, telling himself that he had just been projecting his own feelings onto her. 

But it seemed unmistakable now—she was positively luminous, a halo of desire bathing her in a gentle radiance that outshone the last remaining candles, her beautiful lips swollen with it, her eyes sparkling in invitation. Snape chalked it up to some great cosmic glitch in the Universe, and decided that it was well past the time for him to take a chance on some happiness, no matter how fleeting it turned out to be.

He took her hand in his, leaned in closer and said, "You're quite right, Adelaide. We wouldn't want to let any more opportunities pass us by." 

With that, he raised the palm of her hand to his mouth and kissed it slowly, closing his eyes and breathing in her jasmine-scented essence. He then drew one of her fingers to his lips and put it in his mouth, softly licking the melted chocolate from her skin. As his tongue played and sucked at her, Addy took a deep breath that inflated the glow around her until she was shining brightly down on them both. Her breathing grew shallow and ragged, along with his.

After a few dizzying seconds, she pulled her finger from his mouth and caressed his face, leaning in closer and murmuring against his lips, "No. That would be tragic."

The figures inside their champagne flutes stared up in blithe interest, as he placed his right hand over hers and tangled his left in her hair, drawing her closer and whispering back, "Yes, positively tragic," as his lips grazed hers. Addy felt her body start to tremble.

At that precise moment, a resonant "BONG" sounded from the old grandfather clock at the far end of the room, and a weatherbeaten, grumpy old voice filled the air, clearing cobwebs from it's throat before addressing them:

"It's about ten o'clock now, and I'd be interested to know just how you two young whippersnappers are planning on stopping You Know Who with champagne and bon-bons and moony-eyed looks at one another?"

The clock let out another doleful bong and went silent.

Snape and Addy froze and looked at one another like two first years who'd been caught dropping dungbombs. She felt his demeanor change as the magic between them was broken, the aura that had shimmered around her subsided, and the moment curdled. They backed away guiltily from one another, and Snape pushed the plate of truffles away. 

"I've got one like that in my room too. He he. A clock. Just like that one," she offered with a tense laugh, in a feeble attempt to ease the awkward silence. 

Looking everywhere but at her, Snape adjusted his robes, and said, "Right. I uh…I suppose we ought to get down to work."

"Right. Work," said Addy, slumping in her chair with a deep, dazed breath and a perturbed sigh.

Snape stood in a swirl of robes, raised his wand and growled, "Luminosa!" The sconces on the walls flared, flooding the room with firelight. He stomped around blowing out the last remaining candles, which seemed to flare in protest at him. 

When he could finally bring himself to turn and look at Addy, she had her back to him, but he could see she was having a difficult time standing up. He started in her direction to offer assistance, but, sensing the weight of his yearning, reconsidered. Instead, he said shortly, "I'll get you some Pepper-Up," and swept out of the room. 

Addy's poor head was swimming, and NOT from the champagne. The trembling that had started as desire was now transformed into a crushing shiver of frustration. She did not possess Snape's infernal talent for subsuming his passion, and she was left aching with hunger for him. She tried to steady herself on the table enough to stand, but her legs just didn't seem to want to support her.

Snape, himself, was not having as easy a time as Addy thought. His longing for her throbbed not just in his groin but in his heart as well, and a stream of invectives directed at Voldemort flowed from him as he decanted the restorative potion. He glanced from the bottles of caustic ingredients on his shelves, down to the inside of his left arm, with a fleeting wish that he could burn away his connections to the Dark Lord and simply run away with Addy into the night. But he had tried burning already. It didn't work.

She heard his footsteps glide back into the room, and then a hand swooped down over her shoulder, stopping in front of her face. In it was clutched a vial of brilliant red potion, sparks snapping out of the top of it as the volatile vapors hit the air. 

She looked at the potion and not at Snape, wanting to tear it from his hand, smash it on the ground, extinguish the torches and pick up where they'd been so rudely interrupted. But it was clear to her that Voldemort was going to dictate her actions one way or another, so the sooner the world was rid of him, the better. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to take it step by step, and the next step was stopping Marlin Pugh from blowing up the Underground.

Turning her face upwards to meet his, Addy gave him a determined nod and downed the Pepper Up potion in one swift shot. Though it burned and sputtered down her throat, she allowed no outward sign of it. It soon worked its magic, and Addy was not only able to stand, but bounded up with bright enthusiasm in spite of herself.

She sprang out of her chair, her eyes gleaming with resolve, and said, "Right, then. Where were we?" 

*********************

"Oh, that's right…I was working on my map just before I came down here to…er…pay you a visit tonight," said Addy, twisting her hands and bouncing up and down on her toes. "I'll go get it from my rooms," she said as she sprinted for the door. A second later she charged back into Snape's office, shaking her head.

"On second thought," she continued, "I'm afraid my map isn't very useful. It's just a floorplan—it won't really tell us all we need to know. I was wondering…do you have a Pensieve, Snape?"

"Of course," he said. He crossed the room to a cupboard in the back, unlocked it with a charm, and retrieved a smallish, shallow, marble bowl.

"Good," said Addy. "We can review the scene of the crime-to-be by going into the Pensieve and studying the location."

"All right, go ahead," said Snape, waiting for her to retrieve a memory and place it into the bowl.

"Oh…I've never been in the London Underground. I was hoping you had."

A recollection flashed behind his eyes—an unpleasant one, from the looks of it—and he asked, "At which platform, exactly, is the bomb to be planted?"

Addy screwed up her face in an effort to remember the name of the subway stop. "Kings…Kings…Kings Crossing/Saint Pancreas!" she finally replied. "Have you been there?"

"If you mean the _Kings Cross/Saint Pancras _stop, then yes, I've been there. But only once, with my parents when I was just a child." He appeared irritated at the boyhood memory.

"Well, it's better than nothing. Why don't you have a go at it?" Addy replied, gesturing to the Pensieve.

Placing the tip of his wand to his ear, Snape stepped up to the bowl. For a minute or two, he struggled with the effort of reclaiming the memory from the back of his mind. Addy admired the striking contours of his face, poised in concentration. Finally, he pulled a silvery wisp from his head and placed it in the Pensieve. She stepped up and gazed down at the memory, swirling in the bowl.

"After you," Snape said, and she leaned down into the bowl until her nose just touched the surface. The next thing she knew, she was swirling through time and space until she came to a gentle landing on a subway platform. Sort of.

When he appeared next to her shortly, she turned to him and, with an amused yet dubious expression, asked slowly, "Snape…what is this?"

They stood on a platform in an underground tunnel of impossible height, with dingy, gray vaulted ceilings that easily stretched 100 feet into the air. Strange, dark, flying creatures circled in the lofty shadows overhead as giant Muggles, 20 to 30 feet tall, rushed around the platform, nearly squashing them on numerous occasions. The space was filled with booming voices, chattering in an unintelligible language, and the walls were covered with large signs that bore mysterious symbols instead of words. 

If they hadn't been inside a Pensieve, Addy might have been afraid, but she knew it was all just a memory and they could not be harmed. Snape looked around in confusion, then turned to her and said defensively, "I told you. I was only a child. This is what the Underground looks like to a six year old boy."

Addy again pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but she nearly lost it when, with a roaring rattle, something came barreling out of the tunnel at an incredible speed. It was a silver subway car with an evil, grinning face—headlights for eyes and a metal grille for teeth. It came to a stop with an ear-splitting screech, at least 20 feet from the platform, and a ghoulish voice repeated maniacally, "Mind the gap!" as giant Muggles took running leaps and hurdled on and off the train. Several of them did not make it and tumbled down, screaming into the black abyss that separated the edge of the platform from the gaping doors of the subway car. 

Snape grabbed Addy's hand and said, "Let's go," as the depraved voice droned on: "Mind the gap! MIND THE GAP! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!" 

In the next instant they were whirling backwards until they found themselves standing once again in Snape's office, next to the Pensieve. Addy cleared her throat to stifle her laughter and said, "I'm afraid that wasn't very useful."

"Well, I warned you," he replied sourly.

"It looks like there's no other choice. We're just going to have to go and see it for ourselves," she said doggedly, turning to get her wand.

"Are you mad? We can't just go traipsing around the London Underground!"

"Why not? We wouldn't be breaking any laws. I think it's important that we familiarize ourselves with the scene of the bombing," she said, that stubborn pitch creeping into her voice and demeanor. 

Actually, Snape agreed that, for an operation like this, an advance walk-through was certainly in order. He put his left hand to his right elbow and his right hand to his chin, in his "thinking posture", and paced a few steps in either direction for several minutes. Tired of watching him go back and forth, Addy sighed impatiently and said in a sarcastically sweet voice, "Sickle for your thoughts?" 

Snape looked up startled, as if he'd just been reminded that there was someone else in the room. "Why don't you show me what you've got of the floor plans, and I'll go check out the site?"

"Ha ha, that's a good one Snape," Addy said with a mirthless glare.

"All right," he capitulated, "but I want us in and out of there in under ten minutes, and we can't go like this." 

Addy nodded excitedly, and they both picked up their wands. Snape raised his arm and pointed it at his head, saying, "Muggle Habillis!" Addy looked up to see him standing in what could be considered the Muggle equivalent of his usual robes: a black suit of the finest wool, immaculately tailored to hug and flow in a all the right places, with the crispest white shirt she'd ever seen. His hair was pulled back into a sleek, low ponytail, and Addy was momentarily blinded by his presence as he adjusted the already perfect knot of his tie, a fine shimmering silk one in a deep, mossy green. She suppressed a verbal "Wow" and tried to distract herself by performing the charm on her own clothes.

"Muggle Habillis!" she cried, but looked down in chagrin to see herself standing in a magenta and orange sari, her hair as wild as ever. 

"Oh perfect! You'll blend in nicely in that," Snape snorted.

"Woops," said Addy. "These are the last Muggle clothes I wore. You do it, Snape."

As he pointed his wand at her, he sighed and rolled his eyes again, but something in the curve of his mouth told Addy that he might actually be enjoying this. In the next instant, her Hogwarts robes had been transformed into a pretty, calf-length black cotton dress. It was nipped and belted at the waist and had darts that fitted and flattered her figure perfectly, with a collar that came to an arresting V-neck between her breasts. 

"Weeeee…look at me, I'm a Muggle!" she laughed, as she spun around in delight. The skirt flared out into a wide circle, and Snape couldn't help but appreciate the fact that her legs were taut and perfectly formed. In fact, he thought she looked quite pretty all around.

"Can nothing be done about your hair, Adelaide?" he growled. 

"'Fraid not," she said with a giddy smile.

"Well, then, let's get on with this," he said tensely. "We'll take the invisibility cloak and apparate into a side street near King's Cross. From there, we'll become visible and walk to the station. Stay with me…do NOT get separated. With any luck there will be few Muggles at the platform. Remember to be discreet and act like a Muggle. When we're done, we'll retreat from the station and find a suitable spot to apparate back to the Hogwart's gate. Understood?"

Addy had, of course, heard and understood every word he'd said, but she was frowning down at her new outfit. "What's the matter?" Snape grumbled.

"Don't I need a bag? The Muggle women all carry bags."

Snape flashed his wand at her and gave her a sleek, black shoulder purse. "All right? Now—"

Addy cut him off with, "What about some jewelry, and maybe a hat? I can't go out like this!"

Snape's impatience bubbled over and he was about to explode, when he noticed Addy grinning slyly at him. "Very funny," he said in a soft staccato. Then he grabbed his invisibility cloak and stormed out of the room, with Addy smirking and strutting behind him in her strappy high-heeled shoes.

To be continued…


	22. Chapter 23: Getting to Know You, Part 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second half of the last chapter—Addy & Snape's field trip to the London Underground. I know that some of you are wondering, "What's with the R-rating?". And you might be thinking that at the rate they're going, young Harry's gonna get some before Snape and Addy.

But this chapter represents the first slow, rickety climb of the roller coaster ride ahead of them. I hope you like it.

Chapter 23: Getting to Know You, Part 2

Although the rain had stopped, the warm night air was dense with moisture, and the large moon mostly obscured by a thick layer of fast-moving clouds. The trip down the lawn to the back gate was a struggle for Addy in more ways than one. For one thing, after picking her way over the cobblestones in the tunnel that led to the back door, she was now contending with the tufts of lawn that repeatedly got stuck on her heels as she and Snape bridged the distance between the castle and the gate. Twice her whole shoe came off and she had to stop to put it back on in utter darkness, while Snape looked anxiously about and rumbled at her to hurry up.

But what was far worse was how close they needed to huddle together as they made their way under the Invisibility Cloak. It was agonizing to be pressed against him like that, his arm around her to keep them both under cover as they tried to walk in step with one another for maximum speed. She felt his fingers nervously clenching and unclenching the curve of her waist, and wondered if he was feeling any of the same torment. The Pepper Up potion had not erased the memory of his highly skilled tongue, expertly sucking at her finger with controlled devotion, nor the hungrily searching way he'd pulled her toward him, nor the dazzling sensation of his velvety lips murmuring against hers, nor the look that had lurked behind his eyes, which was power and prayer in equal measure. The lingering imprint of his touch, combined with his provocative scent, triggered an involuntary response in Addy and by the time they arrived at the gate, the area between her legs was saturated with desire.

On the whispered count of three, they vanished. Addy was thankful for the distracting concentration required for them to disapparate and re-apparate in unison, while remaining cloaked together.

They appeared in London on a quiet side street a few blocks from the massive Kings Cross station, in front of a small hotel called The Arriva. Checking to see that there was nobody in site, they flung off the Invisibility Cloak and Addy stashed it in her purse. She stared apprehensively through the glass entranceway at a gruesome painting hanging in the hotel lobby, and was about to ask Snape if the place wasn't perhaps run by Dark Wizards, but he had already taken her hand and was whisking her away down the street.

When they arrived at the station, they made their way down the stairs to be confronted with their first real challenge of the Muggle world: subway tickets. They exchanged a nervous glance, realizing that neither had thought to bring Muggle money. There were quite a few people coming and going, so they strolled over to a deserted side corridor, and Addy kept watch while Snape pulled out his wand and discreetly changed some knuts into British pounds. They watched a few Muggles to see how it was done, then passed through the subway gates without incident.

Several minutes later, they were standing on the platform where Pugh would be planting Voldemort's explosive device in less than two weeks. There were more Muggles than expected--businessmen coming home late from the office, tourists, students, couples and groups of friends. Addy watched them come and go, with the deepening realization of how many lives were riding on the success of their mission. 

She looped her arm in Snape's and urged him to stroll along with her. "Over there," she whispered, inclining her head. "See that bin next to the vending machine? Pugh is supposed to arrive at the platform at eight o'clock in the morning and drop a package into it. Within seconds, a green smoke will emanate from the bin, forming the words 'Greetings from Lord Voldemort, who hopes you are enjoying your last moments on Earth. Prepare to die.'"

Snape snorted. "Typical," he grunted, with a look of disgust.

Addy stopped as a Muggle passed them close by, then continued in hushed tones, "When Pugh sees the words, he's supposed to count to five, cast the spell that will activate the bomb, then disapparate before it goes off. Within moments, the package will erupt in a huge explosion, eliminating this platform and everyone on it. According to Voldemort's Pyromancers, the blast should be big enough to take down a good portion of this entire structure." She gazed around at the solid platform and up at the arched, concrete ceiling in somber reflection.

"Why count to five?" Snape asked, out of curiosity.

"No one was sure he could go any higher than that."

"I assume, then, that the spell isn't very complicated. He will have to be disarmed before he has a chance to drop the package." Addy nodded. As another Muggle passed, she laughed loudly as though Snape had just said something funny. He picked up on the cue instantly and smiled down at her. Addy's insides lurched.

When the Muggle was out of earshot, Snape asked, "Do you know the incantation he will be using?"

Addy nodded again.

"We should report it to the Aurors immediately so they have time to work out a counterspell that will defuse the bomb." He felt Addy's body stiffen automatically at the sound of the word 'Aurors.' She had, after all, spent more than ten years running for her life from them.

They spent the next few minutes drifting around the platform, checking out the various stairways and entrances to determine how many Aurors would be needed and where they ought to be stationed to intercept Pugh. Snape was about to ask Addy another question, when her face crinkled in disgust. "Whew," she cried.

A repulsive odor had just hit her, turning her stomach. It smelled like the Grindylow swamp at the Wizard's Central Zoo on a very hot, August day. She glanced in revulsion at the trash bin they'd just passed, wondering what Muggle garbage could be causing such a stench, but noticed that Snape seemed unaffected by it. With a jolt of recognition, she began to peer around the platform in earnest, gripping Snape's arm.

"What is it"" he asked.

"Pugh!" she whispered urgently. "He's here...nearby. He's getting closer!"

"Where?"

"I don't know," came Addy's confused response, her eyes darting about. They started to head for the nearest exit stairs, but just as they were about to ascend, another wave of the nauseating smell hit her nose, even stronger this time. She cried, "No! Not that way! He's coming from up there! He'll see me Snape...he'll recognize me!"

They looked up the long stairway to see a pair of black boots appear at the top step. As the owner of those boots descended, a thick pair of legs in black denim jeans became visible, then a pair of hammy hands dangling at either side.

There was no time to make a getaway without breaking into a run and possibly attracting Pugh's attention, and there were far too many Muggles around to disapparate without being noticed. Snape grabbed Addy's hand and swung her around in a wide, stumbling arc, shoving her back up against the wall a few feet away from the bottom step.

He blanketed her body with his and put his left arm up on the wall, blocking her from site. With his right hand, he tried to hold down her hair, which was the only part of her visible from behind his form.

"Tuck in," he said in low growl, hunching over her. She grabbed the lapels of his suit and buried her face in his chest. The sickening stench of Pugh was replaced by Snape's earthy, spicy aroma, which deluged her senses with an instant, calming effect.

Snape leaned down and nuzzled her ear, hoping Pugh would take them for just another, lovestruck Muggle couple who couldn't keep their hands off one another while waiting for the train. 

"What's he doing here?" Addy whispered.

"Probably the same as us...checking out the site," he breathed back, his words hot on her face. "Stay down."

Snape glanced surreptitiously over his left shoulder and saw Pugh walking up and down the platform looking distinctly uncomfortable, jumping every time a Muggle got near him. 

"Do you think we could risk the stairs?" Addy asked. With her face pressed to the sturdy plane of his chest, she could hear is heart drumming a steady beat, but couldn't see a thing. 

Snape saw Pugh turn and walk back in their general direction, and huddled closer over Addy, caressing her head as he smoothed down her hair. 'Not now. He's just to our right."

Snape watched out of the corner of his eye, to see Pugh pass them and stop a short distance away, at the bin where he was supposed to drop the bomb. Seemingly oblivious to them, Pugh peered down and spat into it.

"What are we going to do?" Addy hissed in a low, tense whisper. She peered up at Snape, her eyes wide and brimming with trepidation.

But Snape was a different picture altogether. Cool as a cucumber, his eyes glittered down on her with an electrified sense of composure, showering her with confidence and poise. He was in a heightened state of awareness yet completely at ease, fully in his element, reveling in the mad gamble of the moment. 

__

'Great Gandalfl!' Addy thought to herself. _'He's loving every minute of this_!' 

Sure enough, in an unruffled baritone, Snape purred, "We're not going to do anything. We're going to stay right here until he leaves." Then, drawing her even closer and brushing her ear with his lips as he whispered into it, he added, "I don't know about you, but I've been stuck in far worse spots." 

With that, he cupped her face in his hands and swooped down on her in a fiery kiss that stopped time. 

Addy was at first breathless with shock, and then her mind switched off and her body took over. The air around them crackled with the presence of Pugh and the threat of being caught, but in spite of this danger--or perhaps because of it--she was drawn by the irrepressible, tidal, primeval tug he had on her senses. She floated up on tiptoe to absorb and reflect his passion, the curves of her body fitting into his as though filling the empty spaces of his life.

Snape found that he was hungrier for her than even he had realized, and he urgently explored the warm, silky flesh of her mouth as his hands kneaded her hair. The ravenous, searching flickers of his tongue set off fireworks between her legs, and she felt a soft drop of her own arousal trickle down the inside of her thigh. With a series of soft moans, she returned his kiss with all the burning, aching, pent-up yearning of her lonely existence. 

Her hands snaked their way around and under his jacket, her nails raking his back through his shirt, rising up either side of his spine all the way to his neck, then down to the tight, wool-clad muscles of his buttocks. Snape shivered and flexed in response, and clutched compulsively at her hair, her back, her face, her shoulders, her bottom, while their tongues continued their silent conversation. Their bodies writhed together, every nerve ending on fire, instinctively intertwining and searching for greater, deeper contact. She knew that she needed to feel him inside her…their hearts pounding against one another, flesh against flesh… licking, sweating, tangling together. 

He arched his back and threw back his head, eyes closed in the sweet agony of her impossible closeness, as Addy's fingers fluttered to his neck and she planted slow kisses down his throat and over his Adam's Apple. He moved one hand down to her right breast and moaned in delight at the soft weight of her curves. Addy's whole body trembled with longing when he brushed his thumb over the firm nipple he'd found there. The hardness she felt pressing against her stomach continued to grow, and her hands wandered automatically down to his belt, causing him to gasp loudly and whisper, "Oh Adelaide."

"Yes, yes S--"

The sound of his voice in his own ears had caused his eyelids to flicker open, as the memory of where they were and who was around crashed back on him. He had thrown his hand over her mouth before she could say his name, and her eyes widened up at him in panicked realization. 

Neither knew how much time had passed--how long they had been entangled in each other's desire. With his hand still over her mouth, Snape hazarded a sharp glance first to his left, then to his right. Seeing no one, he slowly looked back over his shoulder. Addy's eyes were locked on his face, searching for a sign of doom.

But the platform was completely deserted. Unbeknownst to them, a train had come and gone, the noise and bustle of which had unnerved Pugh so much that he had left the station, apparently satisfied with his preliminary visit. Addy and Snape breathed deep sighs of relief and he removed his hand from her mouth, lingering with his thumb to trace her swollen lips. They exchanged another moment of deep, communicative looks, then Snape ran the back of his hand over her cheek and said sofly, "Let's get out of here."

To be continued…


	23. Chapter 24: One Pierced Moment

AUTHOR'S WARNING: Near the end of this chapter, one of the characters has a dream, in which a rape is depicted. It is brief but somewhat violent, so if this will upset you, please skip it.

***********************************************************************************************************************

it is at moments after i have dreamed  
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,  
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed  
  


with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;  
at moments when the glassy darkness holds  
  


the genuine apparition of your smile  
(it was through tears always) and silence moulds  
such strangeness as was mine a little while;  
  


moments when my once more illustrious arms  
are filled with fascination, when my breast  
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:  
  


one pierced moment whiter than the rest  
--turning from the tremendous lie of sleep  
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.  
- e e cummings

**Chapter 24: One Pierced Moment**

Addy lay on her bed that night staring numbly at the ceiling, too angry to scream, too sad to cry. 

By the time she and Snape had returned to the Hogwarts grounds, the moisture in the air had dissipated. The storm that had come and gone turned out to be a herald of fall weather, and the night breezes whispered rumors of smoky pine and rustling leaves.

They had left the station, turned down a deserted side street and once again disapparated in unison. Upon their arrival at the Hogwarts Gate, Snape changed them back to their school robes, and Addy, with shaking hands, withdrew the Invisibility Cloak from her purse and threw it over them for their walk across the school grounds. Not a word had been exchanged since they'd left the platform, yet they worked and moved fluently together like a well-oiled machine.

In palpable silence they crossed the lawn and approached the castle. Although they walked hand in hand, they were lost in their own separate orbits of thought, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions the night had dealt them. Snape kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of him, never once looking at her, while Addy suffered the protracted ravings from the back of her mind: 

__

'What in Hell do you think you were doing back there? You do know, don't you, that if Pugh had heard or seen you that would have been the death of both you AND your beloved Snape, BUT not before a little dose of Veritaserum had put an end to Dumbledore and the other members of the Order AS WELL. Do you WANT Voldemort to succeed? Is that what you'd like to see? Do you want the blood of countless other innocent witches and wizards on your hands? Haven't you had enough? The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry gives you a much-UNdeserved second chance, and this is how you repay him? And all because you wanted a little kiss??? Of all the idiotic, self-indulgent, irresponsible…'

The old Voice inside her head had been going on in that vein, eroding her sense of equilibrium, since they'd left the platform, while her heart, her soul, every fiber of her human, female body burned in voiceless response for the tall, pale, black-robed Wizard striding alongside her. 

Once, halfway to the castle, she chanced a quick look up at him. Snape did not return her glance. His stony gaze stayed fixed on an invisible point in front of him, but she could see the muscles working silently along his jaw line. As her eyes drifted forward again, he gave her hand an almost imperceptible squeeze. It could have been just a reflex, she thought, or perhaps even her imagination. She would have given anything to know what was going on in his head.

When they arrived back at his office, he unwarded the door, and stepped aside to let her in. Addy turned to see him place locking and silencing charms on it.

That's when he rounded on her, his beetle-black eyes clouded by the tempest within, and hissed, "WHAT ON EARTH WAS THAT?"

He'd caught her off guard, and she sputtered, "What???"

"Just what do you think you were doing back there in the station, Adelaide? How could you lose your head like that?" he demanded.

"If you recall, Snape, YOU'RE the one who kissed ME first!"

"You were supposed to be PRETENDING!"

"So were you!"

"I COULDN'T PRETEND!!!"

"WELL NEITHER COULD I!!!"

They were face to face, perched on the breath of the next moment, suspended in the struggle between resistance and surrender. But the current drawing them to one another was too strong, and in the next heartbeat they surged together like two waves in a stormy sea. Snape's tongue slipped effortlessly into the warm bed of her mouth. He splayed his hands underneath her buttocks, his fingertips maddeningly close to the sweet, wet spot that pulsated for his touch. 

Addy wrapped one leg around him and nearly wept with desire when he moaned his approval into her mouth and lifted her to him. His powerful arms formed a cradle beneath her, and she wrapped the other leg around his waist, exulting in the sensation of his hardness nestled between her legs. It was all they could do to keep from consuming one another. She clutched at his robes and tangled her hands in his hair as they held on to each other for dear life. 

"Snape," she managed in a throaty whisper, stealing kisses even as she spoke. "I need you."

A spark of understanding blazed between them--they shared a divine moment of inexorability…of coming home…of _being_ home. Addy put her fingertips to his face and watched the lust in his eyes melt into wonder. For a short, blessed time, Snape stared at her as though he was holding a miracle in his arms. 

Then, in the blink of an eye, she saw the wonder give way to sadness. The world felt like it was rushing away from her, as she watched his sadness crumble into defeat. 

Snape closed his eyes and spoke in a voice ragged with loss and resignation.

"Addy. We can't."

Still cradled in his arms, she held his face and studied him, painstakingly drinking in every angle, line, and curve, sensing this might be the last time she would see him like this, this close, for a long while. He seemed to know it too, and breathed her in deeply, trying to internalize her, to memorize her. 

Biting her lower lip, Addy tenderly brushed a stray hair from his sweaty brow, and with a tearful smile, she quietly replied, "I know." 

She untwined herself from him until her feet were once again on the floor. His hands dropped to his sides and he turned his back, unable to face her when he softly declared, "I want to." 

"I know."

"But it's too dangerous. There is too much at stake."

"I know."

"The mission is the most important thing…it's the only thing that can matter right now."

"I know."

"We'd be risking everything."

"I know."

"If either of us---"

"I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW!!!" she screamed at the black wall of his back, his body absorbing her waves of bitterness and frustration. She knew it all…she'd been telling herself the same damned things over and over since the platform. Closing her eyes and collecting herself with a deep breath, she repeated softly, "I know."

In the hollow silence that followed, Addy felt she ought to do something--throw herself on him, or storm out, or scream, or at least say something besides "I know." But she was afraid to move, afraid to break what was left of the connection between them, not knowing when or if the Fates would grace them with another glimpse of intimacy. 

"Snape—"

"Just go, Addy."

She didn't go. He didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry…I—" 

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Adelaide. I should not have started something I could not possibly finish. I'm the one who ought to apologize."

"Listen, Snape…look at me—", she pleaded.

But his only movement was the further slumping of his shoulders, as though another large weight had just been added to them. When he spoke again, it was in a soft, shattered, voice, choked with sorrow:

"Addy. Please. Just. Go."

*******************************************

Although it hadn't been easy, she had broken free of the invisible tentacles that had held her like Devil's Snare, rooted to the spot, and forced her feet to carry her through the door and out of his office and away from the potential of all they could have been to one another. Trudging blindly up to her room, she felt her body drain and deaden, numbing itself to any and all feelings for the sake of smothering the ache in her heart. 

She had crawled on to her bed fully dressed. That had been an hour ago, but still she stared wide-awake at the ceiling, struggling to forget…to erase the feeling of his body from her body. A single tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and trickled past her ear. Before it could splash down on her pillow, Addy swiped it away furiously and rolled over onto her side, swearing that it would be the last tear she would shed until Voldemort was demolished. With that, she fell into a fitful slumber. The last thing she heard was the soft, sympathetic "tsk, tsk, tsk" of her clock.

Both Addy and Snape dreamt of the Underground that night.

In HER dream, they were back on the platform, her face cupped blissfully in his hands. Snape was about to kiss her when the telltale odor of Marlin Pugh washed over her. The next thing Addy knew, two large, hammy hands clamped down on Snape's shoulders from behind, dragging him backwards. Pugh was pulling him toward the open doors of a train that had just arrived at the station. Addy lunged for Snape, but the ends of his robe fluttered mockingly through her fingertips.

Pugh leapt onto the train with Snape clamped in his vise-like arms, and the doors slid closed with a slippery hiss before Addy could reach them. She was left calling for Snape, pounding on the window, and stumbling along side the train as it pulled away from the station and hurtled into the unknown blackness of the tunnel, carrying its precious cargo away.

At the same time several floors below, Snape dozed in a stiff chair in front of the massive fireplace in his private chamber. Even as his eyelids twitched in active slumber, however, his other hand clutched a sheaf of parchments that were just beginning to yellow with age. 

He hadn't dared go to bed, desperate to avoid another night of torment, seeing Addy's swirling curls in the brocade of his bed curtains. He couldn't take it again…not this night. 

He couldn't think about her…mustn't think about her. She was a distraction…a dangerous delusion…and ultimately, an impossibility. He'd be better off directing his energies toward other things, like defeating Voldemort for example. 

Then…  
perhaps. 

But now…  
just work.

So he had gathered up his old notes on the "Snakebite" formula and settled himself in a hard, straight-backed chair, to contemplate a response to the second planned attack that Addy had mentioned: the poisoning of the Minister of Magic. The "Snakebite" was a complex poison, one that he had created back when his young mind had reeled with the reckless intoxication of ambition, without concern for how his ingenious creations might be put to use. 

He had poured himself a drink and sat down to study and think. But, even as he tried to concentrate, the dancing fire caught his eye, and in its licks and curls of amber flame he saw her inescapable image. When he closed his eyes, it was as though the picture of her cradled in his arms was burned onto the back of his lids. 

With a heavy sigh, he gazed at the liquor cabinet. 

"Accio Firewhiskey." 

He was only human, after all, and he had a lot to forget. 

Glass after glass, he tried to shut out the distracting, visions in the fire—phantom images of what might have been, rollicking among the flames. Just as he would get focused on his work, he'd catch a glimpse them out of the corner of his eye, and they would tauntingly lure his attention away. But as soon as he looked up, an exploding ember would blow them to bits and they'd vanish up the chimney in a pop of sparks. 

The inevitable, soporific effects of the liquor finally put an end to his misery, and his head nodded down onto his chest. 

In his sleep, Snape was riding the Underground, and as his train pulled in to the Kings Cross platform, he saw a couple locked in an embrace near the bottom of the stairs. A tall man was huddled over the body of a small woman, who had her arms around him and her back pressed up against the wall. 

The subway car stopped and he stood to exit, but the doors did not open. Through the glass, Snape could see the tall man pressing in on the woman, pinning her to the wall. He saw her begin to struggle, trying in vain to push him off, as he hiked up the skirt of her familiar black dress. She began to thrash about behind him, her fingernails clutching and scratching at the air, her screams muffled inside the subway car. 

With a mechanical brutality, he drove himself inside her, slamming her body against the wall repeatedly. Her feet lifted off the floor and twitched grotesquely with each pounding invasion of her body. Snape threw himself against the doors of the car, and clawed at them with all his might, trying to pry them apart. But they did not budge, and he remained a trapped, helpless spectator.

With a final, conquering shudder, the tall man on the platform went still, and the subway doors opened. Snape staggered out onto the platform, and when the tall man turned around, Snape found himself face to face with Voldemort, whose black, diamond-shaped pupils dilated with recognition. When Voldemort opened his mouth in a high-pitched cackle, Snape saw blood dripping from his reptilian fangs…the same blood that was gushing from the wounds on Addy's body, as her lifeless form slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor. 

Snape charged at him, but when he raised his arm to strike, Voldemort twitched his head with the speed of a cobra and plunged his fangs into Snape's hand. The Potions Master felt the venom surge into his bloodstream, and knew it was the "Snakebite" from the signature red glow that could be seen just under the surface of his skin, snaking its way through his arteries as it followed the course of the poison. 

He fell down in the quickly spreading pool of Addy's blood and crawled over to her dead body, laying his head in her lap as Voldemort vanished in a wisp of green smoke. The world was fading to white as the sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs echoed through the empty platform.

He awoke with a start. It was daybreak outside, though no sunlight ever made its way into his private chambers, buried as they were in the bowels of the castle. The fire had gone out, leaving behind a pile of sooty, gray ashes that reminded Snape of the color of Voldemort's lips, streaked with crimson rivulets of Addy's blood. 

There was a strange sound in his ears, and something in the room was dripping. Soon, the realization of what it was pierced his sleep-addled mind. He had been crying in his sleep. The dripping sound was tears—his tears--falling onto the parchments clutched in his white-knuckled left hand. Great Merlin's Beard! How long had it been since he'd shed a tear?

There was something else smudged on the parchments beside his tears—something staining them. Fresh blood. And his hand ached in the spot where Voldemort had bitten him in his dream. 

As the waking world came fully into focus, Snape realized that in his sleep, he had crushed his empty glass in his right hand. A large shard had pierced the center of his palm, and the lap of his robe was soaked with his own blood.

Sighing heavily, he carefully set aside his notes so as not to soil them further, then reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. It wasn't there—he remembered with a pang that he had given it to Addy. Instead, he used the back of his good hand to wipe the wetness from his face, then plucked the shard of glass from his other hand, wincing. He wrapped his gushing wound in the corner of his robe and headed for his potions cabinet. 

As he cleansed the gash and daubed at it with stinging remedies, a half-memory from his dream triggered a question in his mind, one that had troubled him earlier that night but had been relegated to a corner of his consciousness: How had Addy known that Pugh was at the station before she saw him? Before he had even arrived? Frowning, Snape magically sealed the laceration and dressed it in sterile bandages, grimacing more at the thought of what an inconvenience it would pose, and the irritating whispers that would spread like wildfire through the school at the sight of his bandaged hand, than at the pain of dealing with it. Stretching stiffly, he checked the clock, trying to shove the question back into its corner as he got ready for the day ahead.

At about the same time, Addy was sitting up in bed, still feeling unsettled from the unremembered nightmare she'd had. She had awoken to find herself tangled in her school robes and bed covers, drenched in sweat, her legs kicking, her hands pounding at the air, and Snape's name on her lips. And she had been clutching something in her hand—something she'd stowed in her pocket and had forgotten about: a Slytherin-crested, green, silk handkerchief.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Sorry, kids, but The-Thing-One-Can-Not-Have has an irresistible allure, in my humble opinion, so Snape and Addy will remain taboo to one another for the time being. Why not express your feelings about this in a review? (Just, please don't hate me.)


	24. Chapter 25: Hunger Hurts

Author's Note:  
  
Well, I was beginning to think this day would never come.  Chapter 25…finally!  Many, many thanks—SO many!-- to all of you who kept me going with your notes and encouragement.  They really got me through it.  You know who you are.  
  
Enjoy!

Chapter 25:  Hunger Hurts  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills  
'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up  
I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold  
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love  
--Fiona Apple  
  
Slip sliding away,   
Slip sliding away  
You know the nearer your destination,   
the more you're slip sliding away  
--Paul Simon  
  
  
Breakfast was not a pretty sight.    
  
If the students had been paying any attention, one glance at the Staff Table would have dispelled the appetites of those unfortunate enough to have the double whammy of Defense and Potions that day, and may even have prompted a bout of incontinence among those of weaker constitutions.  Judging from the appearance of Professors Snape and Mayhem, even being stuck inside Madame Trelawney's dim, cloying tower on such a fine day would be preferable to _their_ classrooms.  
  
Addy hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, and it had finally caught up with her.  Her leaden eyelids drooped over a fierce, red-rimmed glower, and her hair looked as though it had not just a mind of its own, but one with a Multiple Personality Disorder.  But what really blackened her mood were the vague, foreboding remnants of her nightmare, fluttering like nasty moths just beyond her realm of recollection but close enough to leave her preoccupied and cranky all day.    
  
Snape was no better off, though his outward appearance, aside from his bandaged hand and a particularly toxic scowl, was not much changed.  On the inside, however, he felt like a shipwreck.  The cut from the glass was deep and perfectly centered on his right palm, interfering with just about anything he tried to do.  The hands of a Potioner were his Achille's Heel, and the constant reminders of this self-inflicted damage drove his temper steadily towards its boiling point.    
  
On top of that, every muscle in his body—and particularly his back and neck--ached from the night spent in a hard chair.  His joints, strained and worn over the years from too many confrontations with Voldemort's Cruciatus, complained with even the tiniest of movements, expressing their displeasure in a nauseating series of pops and cracks. The sounds grated on Addy as though they were hammering directly on her already frazzled nerve endings.    
  
Finally, she could take it no longer and turned her head slowly to face him with a look that could freeze mercury.  Snape responded with a slow, defiant, full neck roll that sounded like a 21-gun salute. Nostrils flaring, Addy turned back to her porridge, peevishly scooping up spoonfuls and overturning them so that her breakfast fell back into its bowl with an unceremonious plop.  
  
Although her curious mind wandered persistently to thoughts of his achy joints and that bandage around his hand, (how on earth had he managed that in the time since she'd last seen him?), she would not let herself inquire about it.  '_The more you know about him, the more you care for him,_' came the Voice inside her head.  '_And since you can not have him, you need to stop caring._'  Addy questioned the practical logic of the Voice, but had to admit that she felt positively shredded by her desire for Snape.  Perhaps a little distance would help quell the ache.  
  
But nobody was paying any attention to Professors Snape or Mayhem.  The fresh, morning air had animated the student body with the promise of Autumn:  spicy pies whose aromas wafted by on blustery breezes...leaves crunching underfoot and the taste of snow in the air...kisses stolen beneath a Harvest Moon.  And, of course, Quidditch.  
  
The Great Hall hummed like one great organism, as students hotly debated the relative merits of the latest broom models, discussed new maneuvers they had mastered over the summer, and regaled one another with stories of the stunning victories and crushing defeats they'd witnessed at summer games.  Ron Weasley toppled a pitcher of milk as he reenacted Chudley Cannon moves for Harry, Hermione, and Neville, who had not had the opportunity to attend any Quidditch games that summer.  And, with the first school practice sessions starting that evening, every student had suddenly developed Centaurian powers of prediction as to which house would take the Cup that year.   Even the other staff members seemed to be engulfed in game talk, and utterly oblivious to the sufferings of the two clandestine spies at their table.  
  
*******************************  
By dinnertime, Addy had to congratulate herself on somehow making it through all her classes without scarring any students, either physically or psychologically.  It had been gruelingly tedious to try to keep her mind on lessons, when all she could think about was the bold, silken muscle of Snape's tongue, and the tantalizing pulse she'd felt between her thighs when she'd wrapped her legs around him.  At one point during the day, a meek call of "Professor?" had snapped her out of a distracted trance which had her staring out the window at the pale set of sun-dappled tentacles lolling about on the surface of the lake, embarrassingly oblivious to her classroom full of Third Years.  
  
Dinner represented the third tension-riddled meal of the day. It was impossible to ignore the erotic scent of him next to her, which once again banished her appetite for food and replaced it with a driving, carnal hunger.  Addy resolved to talk to Dumbledore about changing her seating arrangements or she would certainly starve to death. She really didn't see how she could take much more of the torture of his nearness, wanting nothing more than to rake her nails up the length of his thigh, the strength of which she'd had such a brief, exasperating taste.    
  
The evening meal seemed to last at least five or six hours, with the food on her plate somehow increasing despite her efforts at eating.  '_Just be glad they're not serving truffles for dessert,_' she thought, shifting in her seat as moisture sprang between her legs at the recollection of the previous night.  She had survived a lifetime in the treacherous environs of Voldemort's inner circle, an escape that took her across three continents and over two mountain ranges, ten years of poverty scraping together sustenance in the Indian countryside, followed by two years as a captive in her own home.  But THIS, she thought, would surely do her in.   
  
As she poked sullenly at her dessert, a wisp of memory floated through her head carrying the jagged, broken sound of Snape's voice as he had sent her away the previous night:  "Addy.  Please.  Just.  Go."  Stealing a momentary glance to her right, she noticed him compulsively swirling his goblet around, staring into it.  The hardened clench of her jaw softened as she realized that he must be feeling just as miserable as she.  For a split second she thought about placing a subtle, comforting hand on his knee, under the table and out of sight from the students.    
  
When she realized what she'd been thinking, she dropped her fork with a clang, and rubbed her face, as though she might erase the thoughts from her mind.  '_Stop it!  Stop caring!_' she screamed silently at herself, as she picked up her fork and renewed her attack on the lemon tart, doggedly shoving great gobs of it into her mouth.  
  
Finally, she was back in her rooms, gathering up her notes for the last—and greatest—challenge of the day:  her nightly strategy session with Snape.  In the wake of their intelligence run to the Kings Cross Underground platform, there was no need to question the continuation of their work.  The visit, its aftermath, and their ensuing nightmares had indelibly impressed upon the thwarted lovers the absolute necessity of their mission.  Snape and Addy burned—each in their own way—with a desire for vengeance, a bloodlust for Voldemort's demise, and the trembling hope of freedom.  
  
However, actually bringing herself to knock on the door of his office was another matter entirely.  She had now been standing there in the dank dungeon corridor, her notes squished under one sweaty armpit, for several minutes.  Each time she raised her fist to knock, her hand would somehow take a detour to indulge in one of several nervous habits:  twirling her hair, rubbing her face, tapping her pursed lips.    
  
'_This is ridiculous, Adelaide, just do it!_'  She raised her hand for the fourth time, with a firm determination to actually knock.  But before she had the chance, the door creaked slowly open.  Snape was standing at the far end of the room, arms crossed and held away from his body to form a shield of draping black cloth.   
  
"How long were you planning on lurking outside my door like a First-Year late for detention?" he asked. His voice rippled with derision, but Addy thought she saw a shadow of empathy behind his cold mask as his eyes digested her miserable appearance.    
  
"Let's get to work," came Addy's terse reply as she avoided making eye contact.  
  
Which was also easier said than done.  Addy tried not to think about the previous night:  the champagne, the candles, the shine of his raven-black hair…his heated breath on the palm of her hand, on the arc of her neck, down her breastbone…how it had felt to be enveloped in his arms and his essence, grabbing, kissing and nuzzling him as they moved together in syncopated anticipation…    
  
Meanwhile, Snape tried not to think about the unbearable softness of her lips as they grazed his…how achingly beautiful she'd looked in that black dress with the low cut neckline…the blissful glimpse of her milky white breasts in the light of the full moon…the tautness of her calves…the strength of her thighs as she had wrapped them around him…the luscious flesh of her buttocks cupped in his hands…and especially the wild, carnal look in her eyes when she had whispered, "Snape…I need you."  
  
Yes, they tried and tried not to think about any of that.  But it wasn't easy, when just about everything in the room triggered some lustful memory.  Yet somehow they made it through their session, and the next evening's session, and the one after that, dancing and tiptoeing and skirting and stumbling around any direct reference to their simmering feelings for one another.    
  
Mostly, they argued.  They argued about how Pugh would enter the Underground, whether or not he'd go straight to the bin to deposit his package, how he would attempt to exit, how many aurors were needed and where they ought to be positioned, what methods they should use to disarm and detain him, how they would get Pugh out of there, how many Muggles might be there and what to do about them.  They even argued about what to discuss first, what to discuss next, and when to stop—in other words, they argued about what to argue about.  But their smothered passion needed some sort of release, and by the time the weekend arrived, they were nearly spent with the effort of all that bloody arguing.  
  
They met Saturday evening for their final session before the next meeting of the Order, at which they were to give a report to the other members on their plans for the "Underground Project."  As it was her first chance to prove herself in front of her colleagues, Addy was keen to make a good impression, and had been hard at work all day preparing charts, maps, lists, and other documentation, some of which employed complicated spells.  Nearly everyone else was enjoying the beautiful fall weather outdoors, including the teams practicing for the big upcoming Quidditch match,  but she was oblivious to the playful laughter that drifted through her open window.  Only one other soul had remained sequestered all day, down in the dungeon laboratory, working on an antidote to Voldemorte's Snakebite poison.  
  
Snape had not wanted to leave his quietly bubbling cauldron—that bastion of cool, reliable metal, precisely calculated ingredients, and chemical reactions that were, to a Master, as predictable as the movement of the planets—especially not for the torturously hopeless allure of Addy's company.  But she was so adamant that he grudgingly agreed to a run-through of their already impeccable presentation.  He sneered and wisecracked his way through it, but had to admit to himself in the end that he was not only impressed, but also moved.  Her dedication, determination, and obvious desire for approval were nearly painful to witness.  
  
It was close to midnight when Snape turned back to his work on the Antidote, while Addy paced to and fro behind him, trying to think of something they had forgotten.  Finally, she ran out of things to fuss over.  She gathered up her model of the Underground—with its enchanted, moving pieces—mumbling to herself  about the final details of their preparation.  
  
As she ruminated, Snape eagerly looked forward to preparing the newest ingredient for his Snakebite Antidote—crushed ruby.   This was a sudden inspiration he'd had when the recipe he'd been working on had proved too unstable to even attempt bottling, much less drinking.  He knew he was close to the answer…very close.  He kept a small store of precious and semi-precious stones in his private collection of potions ingredients, and his hope was that the ruby would not only contribute its protective properties to the mixture, but would also stabilize it so that it could be tested.    
  
As he ground the sparkling crimson dust in an old mortar and pestle, he heard Addy say to herself, "So, I just need to make eight copies of everything that's to be distributed to the group tomorrow—"  
  
"Eight's not enough," Snape interjected without looking up.  "Tomorrow will be a full meeting of the Order."  
  
"A full meeting?" Addy questioned, her pacing suddenly stopped in its tracks.  "What do you mean a full meeting?  I thought the last meeting was a full meeting."  
  
"That was just an ad hoc meeting, brought about by your rather abrupt arrival," he replied, tapping the pestle gently on the side of the mortar to release the last bits of powdered gemstone that clung to it.  "Tomorrow evening will be a regularly scheduled meeting of the Order…with full attendance."  
  
Addy stared at his back, heartened to hear there were more. In fact now that she thought about it, she hoped there were _many_ more.  And although a flock of butterflies had just started up the old Stomach Mambo at the prospect of getting up in front of a whole new set of strangers, she was glad to know that their tiny army was, well, not quite so tiny.  "Well, who else is in the Order?  How many are there?  Will they all be there?  Will we all fit into the same room as the last meeting???" she asked, entertaining visions of a mighty throng of witches and wizards rallying behind Dumbledore to defeat Voldemort.  
  
Snape bent over his cauldron with keen interest as he added the tiniest dash of the freshly macerated powder with a flat, mother-of-pearl scoop.  His brew fizzled initially at the introduction of the new ingredient, causing a moment of brow-furrowing concern.  But as he stirred in the ruby, the potion seemed to accept the additive, taking on the color of the stone.  This was a good sign.    
  
He stirred and watched his potion as he responded to Addy, "Well, let's see…Mundungus Fletcher should be there.  He's a petty criminal, but his skills do come in handy from time to time.  And the Weasleys—Arthur, Molly, and their elder son Bill."  
  
"Ron's family?"  
  
"Well, part of it, anyway. Those Weasley's are prolific breeders, no doubt about that.  But, despite their loathsome Gryffindor qualities, I can not deny their loyalty to Albus and the Order.  Then there's Moody and his team of Aurors—Shacklebolt will be there tomorrow.  And Tonks too so you'd better—"  
  
"Moody?"  Addy shrieked, cutting him short.   
  
Snape had been stirring his potion with guarded excitement.  However, the weird, high-pitched yelp that had come from behind him sounded so foreign, it drew his attention abruptly from his now ruby-colored concoction.  He looked back over his shoulder just in time to see an ashen-faced Adelaide grip the table and sink into a chair, nearly missing it.  
  
"Adelaide?"  
  
Muttering something to herself, she looked up at him with despairing disbelief, and croaked, "Moody?"  
  
"Yes, Mad-Eye Moody."  
  
"Mad-Eye Moody," she repeated, as though the sounds emanating from her mouth were all new to her.  
  
"Well, Alistor, really."  
  
"Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moody?" she said slowly, her face draining to an even sicklier shade of grey.  
  
"That's right. You've heard of him?"  
  
"Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moody…the Auror?" she asked emphatically as she stood up, her eyes boring into him, clearly hoping for a contradiction.  
  
"No, Adelaide.  Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the internationally acclaimed juggler.  Exactly how many Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moodys do you think there are in the wizarding world?"  His patience with their game of 20-questions had come to an end and, truth be told, her demeanor was so peculiar, it was starting to disconcert him.  "What's this all about?  Do you know Alistor?"  
  
Addy gave the short, bark-like laugh of a madwoman and sat back down heavily in the chair as she replied, "Yes.  Well, no.  Actually, he knows me."  
  
"He knows—"  At that moment, Snape was distracted by a hissing sound from behind him.  His neglected cauldron was bubbling over, the deep claret potion having curdled into a chunky, muddy glop.  Opaque, rust-colored bubbles burped forth from the surface, as the gooey substance ran down the sides of the cauldron, spitting into the flame beneath.  
  
"DAMN!" he roared.  What the hell was he doing discussing Alistor Moody when he had an antidote to brew and time was running out?  He turned to snarl his fury at Addy but he was too late…she had already bolted from the room.  He never saw the look of desperate fear in her eyes as she ran down the corridors, nor heard the model rattling in her quivering hands.  
  
To be continued…  
  
****************************************************  
Author's Other Note:    
  
Here's a brief peek at the outline of things to come:  the next chapter will be a short "Interlude"—should be up in about a week. Then it's on to what happens at the next Order of the Phoenix meeting.  Now that things have settled down, I should be able to go back to my old posting pattern of a new chapter every week or two.  Thanks again for helping me get this one up!!!  
  
  
  



	25. Chapter 27: Reunion

Chapter 27:  Reunion

Severus pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open with a limber thumb.  It was ninety seconds before eight o'clock.  The Order of the Phoenix was gathered in the small, secret room off Dumbledore's office.  Even Harry Potter was there, to Snape's great displeasure.  Dumbledore had invited Harry to join the Order, insisting that too much had already been kept hidden from the young man.  The Headmaster was not one to make the same mistake twice (in face, he rarely made them even once), and was firmly convinced that the Sixth Year student was ready to assume his fated role in the fight against Voldemort.  

There were only four members of the Order missing from the crowded room. Arabella Figg almost never left Wisteria Walk, and was regularly briefed on their meetings by Mundungus Fletcher.  Sturgis Podmore was still serving his sentence at Azkaban, which he had received when a mission he'd been carrying out for the Order had gone awry.  Then there was Fawkes, who, having burst into flames only two days earlier, was now a mere embryonic shadow of his former self, only just starting to emerge from the ashes as an awkward, quivering chick.  It would be several days before he'd be in any shape to join them again.

The final missing member was Adelaide.  

Soft chatter suffused the room as the members milled about, greeting those they had not seen in a while and exchanging news of Hogwarts and the outside world.  One wizard stood outside this circle of camaraderie, glaring at the door as if to will his cohort into appearance.  'Where was she?' Snape wondered.  No one had seen a sign of her all day--she had not been present at any of the meals.  As the seconds ticked by, he became more and more certain that she would not come...that she had ducked out, unable to face the Order, and in particular, unable to face Mad-Eye Moody.  

He'd wanted to ask Dumbledore about Addy's strange reaction to the mention of Moody's name...had puzzled over it all day, in fact.  But he continuously reminded himself that he had papers to grade, ingredients to prepare for the upcoming week of classes, and plenty of work to do on his Snakebite antidote.  He'd made a promise to himself—he would stop thinking about her, stop caring about her, and stop allowing himself to be distracted by her.  "_You don't have those kinds of luxuries, old boy," he'd reminded himself.  "__They are part of other people's lives—not yours."  And so he had barricaded himself inside the dungeons, trying to concentrate on his work so that he would not think about her._

********************

Addy had spent the day isolated in her room, mostly staring out the window towards the east, lost in sad memories.  When a knock came at her door around three o'clock, she sat silently until it stopped and she could hear her visitor's footsteps retreating down the hall.

Her caller had, in fact, been Remus Lupin, who had wasted no time in seeking her out, once he'd returned from the Shrieking Shack and had showered, shaved, and changed into his least shabby set of robes.  He'd come bearing a handful of sad little daisies that he'd plucked from behind the Shack, much to Sirius' consternation.  When she did not answer his knock, he shrugged and left them in front of her door, smiling to himself at how she might puzzle over who had left them, and relishing revealing himself later.

Finally, Addy's annoyingly helpful clock reminded her that it was time for her to get ready for the meeting.  She took a brisk shower and changed into fresh robes, pulling her hair back into a tight, business-like bun.  She wanted to make a professional impression, and although there were always those rebellious curls that would not be shackled by the confines of a chignon, it was the best she could do.  Leaning on the table top of her vanity, she stared at herself solemnly in the mirror.

"You can do this," she said aloud to her reflection.  "You're not the same person you once were.  He will see that.  And if he doesn't, you'll make him see it.  Just remember the faith that Dumbledore has in you.  That's got to count for something...hasn't it?"  

Ending her pep talk on this plaintive, uncertain note, she gathered up her materials for the meeting and made for the door.  Addy didn't even notice the daisies languishing at her threshold as she stepped on them, crushing them underfoot.  She proceeded down the corridor at a brisk, confident pace that belied the knot of angst in the pit of her stomach.  

To her surprise, the gargoyles that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office sprang to life at her arrival and the doorway rumbled open.  Gripping the banister, Addy felt her heart spiral up into her throat as the moving staircase spiraled her upward toward the dreaded appointment.  Halfway up, she was seized with the urge to run--to sprint back down the stairs, clambering downward faster than they lifted her, emerging into the corridor, and running to the farthest corner of the castle, perhaps even hiding out in the wet stone corridor she and Snape had used to access the back exit of the castle.  She would wait there in the comfort of darkness until the meeting was over, and would face whatever consequences she was dealt with tomorrow.   

But she didn't turn tail.  She stayed put, and stepped off unsteadily when the stairs ground to a gentle halt, depositing her in Dumbledore's office.  It was empty, which was just as she had hoped.  She'd timed her arrival at the last minute so as to avoid having to mingle with the others.  After a quick glance at Fawkes' perch, in which what looked like a small lump of feathers lay sleeping amidst a pile of ash, Addy proceeded straight to the hidden door of the meeting room.  There would be time enough for a visit with Fawkes, if he was up to it, after the meeting.  

The hidden entranceway was located directly beneath the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.  The portrait frame had been empty each time she'd been in this room, but now it was occupied by the sallow, pointy features of the former Headmaster.  Sirius had briefed her on his Great-Great-Grandfather's fearsome reputation, and so she found herself prepared for his scrutiny.

"Ahhhh!" he called, with menacing glee.  "So here is our new little Death Eater.  I have heard about _you, yes indeed.  But you've managed to time your visits to Albus whenever I was out, you clever girl."   Addy did her best to follow Sirius' advice and ignore him, as she tucked in her wayward curls and double checked to see that she had all the materials for her presentation, but the old bastard was intent on goading her.  Looking her up and down, he continued, "I see you're trying to make a prim and proper impression.  Good idea, for someone with so very much to prove.  But don't you think you're cutting it a little close on the timing?  The meeting is about to start—you've missed your chance to socialize with the other members, including our very special guests tonight, the Aurors and their esteemed leader, Alistor Moody."_

Addy knew that _he_ knew perfectly well the import of what he was saying, so she looked up dryly and said, "Bite me, Nigellus."

He chuckled softly, and said in a low, intimate voice, "That's not the password, Dearie," before slithering out of his portrait frame.

Shit!  The password!  Addy had no clue what it was.  The last time she'd been there, she'd come with the others directly from dinner.  It had been assumed that the staff would retreat en masse to the meeting once again, and so no one had thought fit to tell her the password.  And the meeting was to start in less than a minute.

After all the trouble she'd gone through, and knowing who was waiting for her on the other side of that hidden doorway, the last thing she wanted was to be late.  Her mind raced as she started guessing passwords.

"Banana Banshees!"  Nothing.   

"Gobstoppers!  Dragon Drops!"  No movement from the paneled wall. 

"Uhhh...Humbugs...Violet Creams…Licorice Pixies…"  Phineas could be heard cackling somewhere off in the distance, but Addy tried not to come unglued and instead concentrated on remembering more confections, as her last remaining seconds ticked away. 

Soon she had named every sweet she could think of, including a few she was pretty sure she'd just made up, and none of them had worked.  What was she to do—knock feebly on the oak-paneled wall of Dumbledore's office, hoping someone would open the secret door from the inside?  Oh, she simply couldn't enter the meeting like that, and the idea of bolting back down the spiral staircase tempted her once again.

And then, a memory floated into her senses—a familiar scent, one she'd smelled recently, and in this very room.  Addy screwed up her face trying to identify it and remember—Aha!  It was the thing she'd smelled the last time she'd come to visit Albus.  She shouted out, "Cinnamon Buns!" and the outline of a doorway appeared as if lit from within by a thousand shimmering fireflies.  Soon, the oak paneling in front of her had dissolved into a luminous, watery looking curtain which parted, revealing the Order of the Phoenix gathered round a large conference table in a dark, torch-lit room.  

Stepping over the threshold and entering the room, Addy saw that all the seats at the table were occupied.  The only empty spot was on the far side of the room, in front of where Snape stood, leaning against the stone wall between two flickering sconces that cast deep, dancing shadows on his face.  Nervously tucking in more curls and trying to look nonchalant, she made her way across the small, crowded room.  As the doorway coalesced back into solid oak behind her, the gentle chime of a clock in Dumbledore's office signaled the start of the meeting.  

The air in the dim room was thick as she crossed it.  She had no patience for Snape's livid, self-centered glare, so her gaze flitted nervously from him, landing instead on Potter's surprised stare.   She quickly shifted her eyes away again and gave a relieved little smile at the friendly faces of Remus and Sirius, whom she hadn't seen since they'd left for the Shrieking Shack.  Her smile gave way to a worried frown at the sight of them—Remus looked sunken and haggard.  Addy would even swear that he appeared thinner.  And Sirius looked as though he hadn't slept in three days.  

Her thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore's call for the meeting to come to Order.  The room quieted down in an instant, and Addy laid her Underground model and the other pieces of her presentation on the floor next to her seat.  Snape stood almost directly behind her, and she could still feel the heat of his glare raising the small hairs on the back of her neck.  She swallowed hard, and turned her concentration to what Dumbledore was saying.

He was calling Harry Potter—the boy who had never needed any introductions in the wizarding world—up to the head of the table so that he could be sworn in as a full-fledged Member of the Order.  When the oaths were complete, those around the table banged it with their hands and those seated away from the table stomped the floor in the customary welcome.  Addy joined suit.

When the din died down and a grinning Harry resumed his seat between Remus and Lupin, Dumbledore called out, "I believe we now must introduce another new member, who was sworn in last week during an emergency meeting of the Order.  She has been stationed here at Hogwarts, where she works undercover as our Professor of Dark Arts.  Adelaide Mayhem, would you please rise."

All eyes turned to her and Addy stood, smoothing her robes, certain that that everyone could hear the pounding of her heart.  Dumbledore stared intently over his half-moon glasses at her for just the briefest moment, quietly gauging her.  Then he gestured toward an old wizard seated at the table, wearing a shabby, oversized cloak and clenching an unlit pipe between his yellowed teeth.  "Adelaide, you have not yet met Mundungus Fletcher, our star Procurer of Necessary Things.  Mundungus, Miss Adelaide Mayhem."

Fletcher rose from his seat, and he and Addy nodded cordially at one another.  Then he pulled the pipe from his mouth and gave her a gap-toothed smile, saying, "Call me Dung, everyone does!"  A nervous smile flitted across her lips as he waved and sat back down, and Addy thought she heard a sound of disgust from a red-haired witch seated further down the table.  "_If that's not a Weasley," she thought to herself, "_I don't know the difference between mandrake and marshmallow._"  Indeed, her suspicion was confirmed with Dumbledore's next introduction of Arthur, Molly, and Bill Weasley.  They all stood and gave her a hearty welcome with warm smiles, and Addy relaxed just a bit more.  _

Next came Dedalus Diggle, an excitable but friendly wizard wearing an alarming top hat that made her smile once again. As the introductions continued around the room, Addy was beginning to feel at home again, when Dumbledore introduced her to another new face—a witch just a few years older than herself with pink cheeks and black hair.  "Adelaide, this is Hestia Jones.  Hestia works undercover for us at St. Mungo's."  

Jones.  

Addy's smile dissolved as she stared at the witch, searching for any sign of familiarity, wondering if she could be a relative on her father's side.  '_Calm down, Adelaide,' she told herself.  '_There are millions of Joneses, and your father has no known living relatives.  It's just a coincidence._'  _

The witch seemed pleasant enough if a bit on the formal side, and displayed no sign of recognition toward Addy.  Still, Addy shifted uncomfortably at the mere mention of her name and the name "Jones" so close together.  She hoped it hadn't triggered any unpleasant associations in anyone's mind.  

Oh, but it had.

From the shadows next to the hearth came a hacking, coughing sound that turned gradually into a low, mirthless laugh.  A scarred, wiry old wizard emerged, each heavy footstep alternating with the even heavier clunk of a wooden leg, until his gnarled features were illuminated by the shifting firelight, which glinted off his rolling, magical eye.  

"Don't worry, Miss Mayhem," he said in a voice thick with danger.  "There's no relation there."  His large, icy-blue eye settled on her and stayed there, trapping her like an animal caught in headlights as he slowly approached her.  Step…clunk…step….clunk…

The room had gone completely silent other than the uneven sound of his footsteps and the crackle of the fire.  Addy silently ordered her feet to stay put, and held his gaze, lifting her chin in a poor imitation of composure as he approached. '_Dumbledore believes in you…Dumbledore believes in you_,' she told herself over and over.  Finally, the old Auror stood right in front of her, both eyes still and fixing her to the spot.  The diagonal gash of his mouth broke into a twisted grin, as he spoke slowly and softly into her face. 

"Hello, Princess."

Addy flinched visibly at the mention of her old nickname, and although he could not see her features from behind, Snape could see her body language transform as her confidence drained steadily away like blood from a gaping wound.  He had the sudden, irritating urge to come to her defense … to rush to her side and protect her from Moody's vitriol.  He mentally swatted off the thought like a gnat, but didn't take his eyes from Moody's left hand, which Snape knew to be his wand hand.

Addy was frozen.  She couldn't move and she couldn't speak.  She just stood there as the years rolled back on her, until she was a naïve 22-year old again and she and her family were constantly on the run and the fear of being caught by Moody or one of his Aurors was around every corner and every night she fell asleep in a strange place wondering if her friend Nagini had made it out alive and if the next day would bring their capture and the bleak end would come with the fetid stench of a  Dementor's kiss.

Her heart beat wildly, and when she tried to respond, her breath caught in her throat and she croaked out something unintelligible.   She took a deep breath, forced herself to swallow, and managed to greet him with a whispered, "Auror Moody."  Then she took a step backward and, to Moody's astonishment, held out a trembling hand for him to shake, trying her best to hold his gaze level.

Moody's strange grin grew horribly wider, registering her distress as beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.  He did not shake her hand, and instead left it hanging there awkwardly in the space between them, as he continued softly, pressing his advantage:

"Imagine…over three years spent chasing you and your family, day and night, through snow...mud...scorching sun...across three continents, over mountains, deserts, oceans…Do you have any idea how close we got…how many times I thought I had you in my grasp?"  

As Moody's left hand clenched into an arthritic fist, Snape unconsciously shifted his position ever so slightly to have easier access to his wand sitting inside his robe pocket.  He didn't take his eyes off the Auror.  

Moody's voice grew steadily more sinister as he continued.  "And instead, I come face to face with you here, at Hogwarts, in this cozy, secret meeting room off the Headmaster's office, surrounded by some of the finest witches and wizards I know.  And I suppose I'm to shake your hand, and welcome you to the cause, and suggest we have tea and crumpets so you can catch me up on everything you've been doing since I last saw you and your father disappear around a corner at a marketplace in Kathmandu?"

This was it--the moment Addy had been dreading since she'd heard Snape mention Moody's name the night before.  She knew the Auror held a murderously vengeful grudge against her father for the number of times he had escaped capture.  She and her family had been astounded at the insane resolve he'd shown in pursuing them, madly driving his team ever onwards and always turning up just one step behind them, no matter where they had hid or how far or fast they had traveled.  

But although they had come face to face on several occasions, Iscarious Jones had been the one fugitive Moody had sought, and failed, to bring in to Azkaban. At night, Addy had been visited in her sleep by nightmarish visions of the gleam she'd seen in the Auror's magical eye—the maniacal obsession…the utter hatred.  He had been close enough for her to look directly into his face on more than one occasion, and she could never shake the feeling that some small part of Moody had enjoyed the chase, never once doubting that it would end with his own triumph. 

Indeed, Moody had never forgiven himself for letting Iscarious Jones get away in the days and years that had followed Voldemort's fall. No one had known whether Voldemort was dead or alive or (more accurately) somewhere in between after his fateful visit to the Potter household, and Lucius Malfoy--the Pillar of his Community--was untouchable.  That left Iscarious Jones number one on the Ministry's hit list, and every Auror's top prize.

Moody had sworn that it would be his last conquest.  He'd bring in Jones, which would invariably lead to the capture of multiple other Death Eater fugitives.  He would attend the trial in person, ensure that Jones was convicted, witness the Dementor's Kiss himself, then hand over his resignation to the Minister of Magic.  He'd made a promise to his wife, Helena, that when Voldemort and his followers had finally been brought to justice, he'd give up the Auror life and settle down so they could have a stable home life and some time together.  He'd been looking forward to it for years, and he'd finally got so close, he could almost taste it.  The first thing he planned to do after his resignation was to buy Helena a new hat--one with flowers on it--and then take her on a holiday--the first one they would have had since their honeymoon.

But Jones had proved far more elusive than Moody had ever dreamed.  He and his team, which had included the young, rookie Auror Shacklebolt, had chased Jones and his damn family halfway across the world.  No matter how good their intelligence, how sure they had been that the noose was tightening, the Joneses always slipped away, and it had driven Moody nearly mad.  How could a family of three--including two women!—traveling together, consistently evade the best team of Aurors in the entire Ministry force?  

Moody had known that if he'd been willing, as some factions of the Ministry had urged, to risk and accept a certain number of Muggle deaths--aka "collateral damage"--he could have had Iscarious more than once.  But it was the one thing Moody had sworn never to do–he would never again cause the death of innocents in order to capture his quarry.  Iscarious had known this, and had used it to his advantage. 

Neither the mother nor the daughter had been officially charged with any crimes since they could not be directly linked with any.  But Moody (and many others) were quite sure that they had in some way been instrumental behind the scenes.  And besides, even if she were not a criminal herself, he knew in his bones that the capture of the Little Princess would bring Daddy Iscarious to the rescue, which made Adelaide an even greater prize, perhaps, than her father.  How Moody had relished the elegance of using the daughter as bait, and lying in wait for his nemesis to walk right into his trap.  

And so the chase had continued.  Eventually, his entire team, with the singular exception of Shacklebolt, had abandoned him.  Kingsley had been the only one there with him in Malta when the news had come of Helena's death.  And Kingsley had been there at the end, when all the clues and signs and trails that had led them onward had dried up.   It had seemed as if Iscarious Jones and his family had simply disappeared into the thin air of the desert.  The two Aurors continued to search side by side for seven more desperate months without a single hint of their prey.  It wasn't until Shacklebolt had taken deathly ill that Moody had called off the hunt, and had returned to London just in time to save his comrade's life.

**************************************

Moody opened his mouth to speak again—to twist the knife a bit deeper—but before he could say anything further, Dumbledore interjected.  Albus' eyes were still twinkling happily, but there was a commanding note in his voice that Addy had never heard before.

"Alastor, I realize that you and Adelaide are previously acquainted.  However, she is now one of us, and will be treated with the same respect you would give any Member."  Someone in the room snorted derisively.  

Moody poked a craggy finger into the air, pointing directly between Addy's eyes, and inclined his head toward Dumbledore while his magical eye remained fixed on her.  

"She has no business here, Albus."

"She is here at my invitation, Alastor," the Headmaster replied calmly.

"With all due respect, Albus, you're making a mistake.  It doesn't happen often, but you're making one now.  She belongs in Azkaban, not Hogwarts.  My team and I would be happy to escort her there right now, and with a little…persuasion…she might even agree to invite her dear father along to accompany her."  Addy took a reflexive half-step backwards.

With that, Remus exploded from his seat, charging at Moody, and shouting, "Alastor, that's quite enough!"  Remus had nothing but the highest respect for the world-weary Auror, but he had crossed a line and Remus was not about to sit by and watch him abuse and humiliate a friend and fellow member of the Order, regardless of their personal history.

Sirius was on Remus' heels, trying to restrain his friend.  While Remus had sat there seething throughout Moody's tirade, Sirius had kept one eye on Dumbledore who, it was clear, had the situation under control.  Indeed, Dumbledore raised a hand in Remus' direction, stopping him in his tracks.  Sirius was able to get a hold of his arm and drag him back to his seat.

Moody snarled in Remus' direction, "You don't know what you're dealing with, Lupin!  Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, I always say.  And blood is thicker than water."

With that, Moody had managed to simultaneously offend both Snape and Sirius, who suddenly felt themselves unjustly impugned, along with a few others in the room.  For an instant, they looked equally shocked to find themselves on the same side of an argument, before turning their attention back to Moody.    

Snape advanced until he was standing nearly level with Addy, and snarled, "If that is indeed what you always say, Moody, perhaps you'd like to say it to me.  Outside."

Sirius, having just finished getting Remus back in his seat, now came forward himself, shouting, "Blood is thicker than water, is it? What's _that_ supposed to mean, Moody?"

Hagrid stood up abruptly, knocking over the chair behind him. "Yeah!  With all due respeck, sir, what's that supposed ter mean?"  Quite unexpectedly, Flitwick, who'd been sitting next to Hagrid, jumped up on his chair so that he came to Hagrid's waist and, with a fierce look on his face, chimed in, "Yes, what exactly _do _you mean by that, Alastor?_"_

Addy watched in horror as the room dissolved into chaos around her, unable to shake the feeling that this sudden discord among the members of the Order was all her fault.

Minerva whipped around to Snape:  "Severus, I'm shocked at you!  There will be no dueling among us!" she said with a grim frown.  Remus, much to Snape's annoyance, came to Severus's defence, shouting at Minerva, "If you're going to be shocked at anyone's behavior, Minerva, don't you think it ought to be Moody's?  What right does he have to speak to Adelaide like that?!"

Kingsley Shacklebolt then came to Moody's defense, whirling on Remus.  Moody continued to argue with Sirius, and Snape was snarling something to Minerva, while the rest of the room joined the fray as well.  Poor Harry sat there, bewildered at the behavior of his teachers and trying to sort through all the crazy, mysterious accusations and bits of information he was overhearing.

The only other people in the room not screaming at somebody were Adelaide and Dumbledore.  Addy looked over miserably at her Headmaster.  She wished she could tell him how sorry she was for causing all this strife…that perhaps she never should have come to him in the first place.  In fact, there was no need to tell him.  He could read it in her eyes, even without his formidable legilimency skills.

She saw that he was about to put an end to all the squabbling, but Addy decided that she'd had enough of Dumbledore stepping in at the last moment to save her hide.  She shook her head as if to say, "No, I'll handle this one," and started to reach for her wand.  Dumbledore's eyes widened in alarm—he knew that she would never even get it out of her robe pocket, and feared what the repercussions might be in the suddenly explosive atmosphere of the room.  He flashed her a silent message to stop and, faster than Addy could blink, had his own wand drawn.

To be continued…


	26. Chapter 28: A Secret

**Chapter 28: A Secret Revealed**

Author's Note: Well, several years, 2 new babies and a new home in a new state later…It's been a long time. Many thanks to those of you who still have an interest in continuing with this story. I have never forgotten it, just had to put it on the back burner for a while. I have a bit more time to devote to it now. The rest of the story is still all here in my head, and I'm eager to getting back to sharing it with you. Thank you again for your very kind comments and your encouragement and support!

Oh, and by the way, this story is now obviously Alternate Universe. I believe it was started just after Prisoner of Azkaban, and remains hopelessly stuck in a time warp there. So, good news if you're like me and have seen some of your favorites meet their demise in JKR's world. I won't say anything more for fear of spoilers (yes, there are still people out there who haven't yet finished DH).

So…onward…

"EXPELLIARMI!"

The Headmaster's voice boomed and twenty-one wands flew into the air, clattering down in a heap behind him. The Order of the Phoenix was now disarmed.

Dumbledore had watched with dismay as the friction between Moody and Adelaide easily sparked old flames of resentment that he'd hoped had been extinguished years ago. His eyes were not twinkling now. Angry, crimson embers spat from the tip of his wand.

He spoke in a voice that was disturbingly quiet and weary. "I had hoped I would not see the day when members of the Order turned on one another. Have we let suspicion so easily infiltrate our ranks, so effortlessly penetrate our minds and transform cameraderie to mistrust? If so, it is a sad day for the Order, and a triumphant one for Voldemort. I am glad Fawkes was not here to witness this." With that, he returned heavily to his seat.

The room was still. No one looked at anyone else. Someone coughed.

The silence was broken when, without another glance or word in Adelaide's direction, Moody turned on his heel and loped back to his murky corner by the fireplace, his lopsided gait echoing once again off the paneled walls. His retreat seemed to send a wordless signal around the room, and the scraping of chairs and rustling of robes filled the silence as everyone, now wandless, resumed their seats.

As Addy turned back to her chair, Dumbledore called sharply, "Professor Mayhem, you and Professor Snape have devised a strategy for us to thwart Voldermort's attack on the London Underground, have you not? Step forward."

Addy stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide as saucers. "_He couldn't possibly mean…" _she thought to herself, _"he wouldn't honestly ask her to…he can't really think…"_

With a withering stare, Dumbledore replied aloud, "I could, I would and I do, Professor."

Addy was rooted to the spot, speechless, petrified. The next thing she knew, Snape had retrieved her magical replica of the subway platform from beneath her seat, shoved it into her arms, and was dragging her by the sleeve of her robe to the front of the room.

Together, Addy and Snape managed to stumble through their plan and get their point across. Much to her astonishment, their scheme was well-received. After a bit of debate, the mission was approved unanimously and the roles were assigned.

Eleven Aurors, led by Moody, would take part, making this one of the largest coordinated efforts the Order had yet to undertake. Pugh would be apprehended; disposed of if necessary. The plan had to be airtight--there could be no possible means for Pugh to slip through their grasp and report back to Voldemort. If the Dark Lord found out that his attack had been anticipated, he would surely wonder how the information had been leaked. Once Pugh was successfully in the custody of the Order, word would be sent back to Voldemort, through Snape, that Pugh had got cold feet and had run off into hiding, presumably somewhere in the Pyrenees where he had relatives. If they were lucky, Voldemort would end up spending valuable time and resources trying to track him down.

Arthur Weasley (to his delight) had been put in charge of Muggle disguises so that the team would blend in with the surrounding Londoners trudging through their morning commute. He was particularly excited about arming everyone with what he called a "mobular tellyphone" and an "eye pod," which sounded to Addy like something that ought to be overseen by Professor Sprout.

The gathering grew solemn as Dumbledore magicked away the round conference table and conjured in its place a Summoning Fire to perform the Bonding Ritual. This ancient magical vow of allegiance, similar to the oath of the Secret Keeper, would bond the team members to one another and to the mission. They gathered in a circle around the fire.

When Addy and Snape stepped up to take their place at the circle, Moody stiffened. As the Headmaster raised his wand to begin the incantation, Moody preempted him.

"What do we need _them_ for, Albus?"

"It's _our_ plan," growled Snape.

"He'll recognize you, won't he?" countered Moody, his eyes narrowing. "I realize Pugh's an idiot, but surely even _he_ would recognize two fellow Death Eaters. Particularly a pair of celebrities like yourselves: the Dark Lord's Princess-in-Waiting and his star Poisoner."

Addy felt the heat of her own blood rising to her cheeks. She really wished he would stop calling her that. From the corner of her eye, she looked down to see Snape's knuckles go white with the effort of restraint.

Before Snape could lash out, Dumbledore responded calmly, but firmly, "Alastor you will kindly work with whatever team you are assigned. I have every faith that we can ALL put the interests of our cause above our own personal grievances. While you are correct in that either Severus or Adelaide would likely be recognized by Mr. Pugh, you may recall that we have a very simple way of concealing their identity with a potion that most of our Fifth-Years could brew."

"However," he continued, turning towards Snape and Addy, "Alastor is also correct in that you are not _both_ required to serve in this mission. One of you is quite enough. In the starkest of terms, should something go wrong, we could not afford to lose you both."

Addy's breath caught in her throat. It was the first time she'd considered the possibility that something might "go wrong", or that anyone might be "lost."

"Step back, Professor Mayhem," Snape proclaimed coldly, without looking at her. "I'll go."

"No. I'll go. You step back," Addy replied, matching him note for frosty note.

Snape's nostrils flared, his temper already pushed far beyond the boiling point. He snapped his head in her direction, glaring, but Addy cut him off with a raised hand and a voice that sounded very tired of arguing. "Look Snape, I'm the only one here who could detect him even if he is disguised. I'll know when he's there. I'll know when he's coming."

Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously. In fact, everyone thought that was a rather odd thing to say, especially Molly Weasley who really did not appreciate all this talk of losing people when her husband stood at the front of the room with a rather disjointed team about to embark on a very dangerous mission. She piped up, "What do you mean, you'll 'know when he's coming?' I assume the Death Eaters are as familiar with Polyjuice Potion as we are. Why, they could grab any Muggle off the street and use them for the purposes of—"

"It doesn't matter, Mrs. Weasly. I'll _smell_ him," said Addy, turning to face Molly with a weary sigh. "I'll smell him long before anyone sees him. I'm an Omniolfactor, and Pugh is as rotten as they come. There's no amount of Polyjuice in the world that could mask _that_ stench."

A blanket of hushed surprise fell upon the room. Harry turned to Remus with a baffled expression and mouthed, "An Omni-what's-it?" He had never heard the term before (although he was sure Hermione would have known what it meant).

Without taking his eyes off Addy, Remus whispered back, "An Omniolfactor…extraordinary! It's a rare gift, Harry, very rare. There are witches and wizards today who don't even believe it exists—they think it's only in the ancient legends. Omniolfactor's have the ability to actually determine another person's intentions…their character…their aura...through the sense of smell. You know how some animals can use their noses to detect emotional states? Fear…sadness…aggression…joy. It's like that. Sort of like having a built in Sneak-o-Scope. I can do it to an extent when I… when I change. But when I return to human form it's difficult to remember the sensation, like waking up from a dream that I can't quite recall."

Sirius, who had been listening to Remus' halting explanation, added, "Same here. When I transform into my animagus, I can do it too. But when I change back, the experience is frustatingly beyond grasp." Harry glanced intuitively at MacGonagall, who was looking at Addy with the same look that Remus and Sirius bore, which was a mixture of admiration and envy. Clearly, the elusive sensation was something that haunted all animagi.

Addy had hoped she wouldn't have to mention it, for she already felt like enough of a freak, and she hated the way people looked at her on the rare occasion that she had revealed her "special gift." It was no big deal, really. The Sense, as her maternal Great Grandmother used to call it, was just something she'd been born with, and it was such second nature that she usually just took it for granted. Most of the time it was more of a nuisance than anything else, since having an extra sense to contend with could be a real distraction. When one was faced with a particularly hostile foe, as in the case of Pugh, it was no picnic to be privy to the nauseating stench of brutality. If she hadn't grown up with the reek of Voldemort's compound, it would probably cause her to faint dead away. Even so, she had to adjust to it each time she went back. Even the other side of the coin—the dizzying, intoxicating scent of Professor Snape—was equally distracting, if not infinitely more pleasant.

The only time she'd felt it really had been a handy gift was around people who projected one persona outwardly, but held vastly different intentions in their heart. Like Lucius Malfoy. Despite the smooth exterior and polished manners, his signature scent was the metallic reek of blood mixed with the stale, dusty odor of old paper. She'd known from the moment she had met him at the tender age of four that he was no good.

There had been another time, of course, that she'd been grateful for her gift: when she and her family were on the run from the Aurors. Addy's gift could probably be credited with saving their lives. Moody's unmistakable signature was the uncommon smell of freshly hewn stone. It preceded him everywhere, and each time she'd thought they had given their hunters the slip and were free from pursuit, sooner or later that cold, sharp smell would creep into her nostrils again. At the first, faint sign of it, she and her father would be packed and on their way. Even after they had finally "disappeared" into relative safety, it had taken more than two years for Addy to shake the habit of sniffing the air upon wakening, like an animal, just to be sure there were no enemies nearby.

Moody's shrill voice dragged her attention back to the present circle of so-called comrades. "So THAT'S how you did it! That's how you always got away! I told you Shacklebolt, didn't I? I always said it had to be something like that. Didn't I? I knew it…didn't I always say…" Moody's voice trailed off to a disturbing, mumbled monologue, while Kingsley simply stared malevolently at Adelaide, without speaking.

Dumbledore proceeded. "Well then, it would seem that Professor Mayhem's gift bestows a distinct advantage on this mission. Therefore, I must ask you to step down, Severus. Your desire to serve, however, is duly noted and much appreciated. Anyway," he added grimly, "you have your work cut out for you with the Snakebite Antidote, and I'm afraid the next mission will be a solitary and extremely dangerous one for you."

After so many years, Snape knew when it was pointless to argue with Albus and this was clearly one of those times. He nodded cordially to the group and gracefully removed himself from the circle, resuming his post against the far wall. His expression was indecipherable. Addy frowned and worried her lower lip.

The Bonding Ritual proceeded without further interruption, and brought the meeting to a dramatic conclusion. Ordinarily, these gatherings ended with congenial chatter and sometimes even gatherings for drinks in Albus's study or Hogsmeade. This one, however, was different. Dumbledore curtly directed everyone to retrieve their own wands from the pile where they had landed, and departed swiftly to his private quarters without a glance backwards. The members filed out in somber, quiet contemplation. No one could escape the realization that they were now at war--full-fledged war—and the weight of it was heavy on their minds and shoulders. There was no turning back now. There would likely be losses. And possibly even betrayals.


End file.
